


A Visitor

by Hamliet



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga), Hunter X Hunter, 博多豚骨ラーメンズ - 木崎ちあき| Hakata Tonkotsu Ramens - Kisaki Chiaki, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Grief/Mourning, Healing, M/M, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-26 11:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17745494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hamliet/pseuds/Hamliet
Summary: Still haunted by his parents' example, Illumi Zoldyck enrolls in a parenting class to help him raise his siblings. There he meets Blanca, an ex-assassin forced to take the class by two mentees, Jiang Cheng, a grumpy man forced to take the class after being overheard threatening to break his nephew's legs, and Banba Zenji, who's just there for the free snacks. But slowly he begins to realize that his old friend Chrollo is working on a story involving assassins and human trafficking that just so happens to catch all of them up in its web.





	1. Who's the Troublemaker Now?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! Welcome to crossover hell, in which I crossed over the four stories I've read/seen in the past year with characters I can't forget: Hunter x Hunter, Banana Fish, Hakata Tonkotsu Ramens, and Mao Dao Zu Shi. I don't thiiiiink you have to be familiar with all four of the stories since I am giving relevant background, but yeah. The setting is a modern AU in New York, which is essentially Banana Fish's world.
> 
> For Banana Fish, the story takes place post-canon, except Ash survived. I wrote a fanfic called "Half a Letter" in which Ash survived, and this story does fit with that particular story, but it definitely does not have to be read beforehand.
> 
> For Hakata Tonkotsu Ramens, it also takes place post-canon (well, as far as has been translated which is 3 chapters into the last novel!) The setting in canon is a modern day one as well, so it transfers well.
> 
> For Hunter x Hunter, the setting is fantasy, so it's a modernized AU. I wrote a series of modern HxH AUs called "In Shadows" which again, this story is compliant with (happening post those stories), but like with BF, you absolutely don't have to read them beforehand since anything relevant will be mentioned.
> 
> For MDZS, well, that's also a fantasy world, so it's a modern AU as well. Relevant information will be given.
> 
> Ships to be explored are: Asheiji, Yuesing, Kurokura, Hisoillu, and Wangxian (all of which are established relationships), and Banlin (not established at the beginning). The background relationships mentioned are Killugon, Zhuiling, and maaaaybe Xicheng. POV characters are Ash, Yut-Lung, Kurapika, Illumi, Wei WuXian, and Lin Xianming.
> 
> As sexual abuse is a topic Banana Fish deals with at length, and homophobia is a topic MDZS does deal with as well, both will be mentioned at times. Nothing will be graphic, but I just want to forewarn.
> 
> Now that I've finished the world's longest explanation, please enjoy. Crossovers are hard to write, y'all, so this is def not my best work, but I'm giving it my best shot and I hope it's enjoyable anyways-and not too confusing!
> 
> The title is taken from Mary Oliver's poem, "A Visitor."

Before Wei WuXian even said it, he knew Jiang Cheng would punch him for it. And yet he couldn't help himself.

His brother's eyes darkened. His fist curled. He took a step.

Wei WuXian's husband gave a slight frown. Jiang Cheng clearly took it as a blessing to swing at his brother.

"Well, it's true!" Wei WuXian shouted, ducking to the side. Laughter broke out of him in snorts as he raced through the apartment Jiang Cheng had moved himself and Jin Ling into two weeks ago. All the boxes were unpacked, everything stowed away as if they'd lived here forever, or as if no one lived there, because there wasn't so much as a wrinkle on the couch. "You've been here only a few weeks and you're already in trouble with the law!"

"Like you're one to talk!" Jiang Cheng glared.

Lan WangJi rolled his eyes, stepping between them.

"I'm still trying to picture it," Wei WuXian gasped. His stomach knotted from cackling as he clutched the back of a spotless new couch that didn't look as if it'd been graced with an ass yet. He could feel tears rising up in his eyes. "You—a cop heard—you threatening to break—our nephew's legs—and mandated you to take a parenting class?"

"Shut up!"

"I won't; it's too good to be true!"

"Get out!"

"And go where? We live across the hall!" It was a nice change of pace, to have Jiang Cheng in trouble for once. And with the law, no less. He doubled over, digging his fingers into the back of the sofa. "What did Jin Ling say? Was he there? Please tell me he was there."

Jiang Cheng's face was so swollen it looked as if he was cosplaying a grape. "I always say that! I don't mean it!"

"Of course you don't," Wei WuXian insisted, swallowing his laughter. He straightened. If anyone suggested Jiang Cheng wasn't a good parent, he'd pummel them himself.

Okay, Jiang Cheng could be nicer to Jin Ling. Then again, it wasn't like Jiang Cheng had a decent point of reference for kind parenting. And it wasn't like that wasn't at least somewhat related to Wei WuXian. Even if it wasn't exactly his fault either. And Jiang Cheng's mother loved him.

"You could return to China," stated Lan WangJi. Trying to be helpful. As usual.

Jiang Cheng's eyes flashed. "Jin Ling would not be pleased."

"I mean," drawled Wei WuXian. "You came here for him; what's one more thing to do for him?"

They hadn't intended on all moving halfway across the world to New York for a year. Lan XiChen, WangJi's older brother, just so happened to get an offer to come teach at one of the city's universities. And then Lan SiZhui and Lan JingYi, who might as well be WangJi and WuXian's sons at this point, kept jabbering about visiting their uncle. And then Wei WuXian looked into visas as a joke. And then he looked up from his laptop one night and found his husband watching over his shoulder, and when he stood up, grinning, and announced "Let's all go with your brother!" fully expecting WangJi to mutter, "pathetic," he instead felt shock in his bones when WangJi agreed, "let's."

When he asked later, all Wangji said was that Xichen shouldn't be alone right now. And Wei WuXian knew what he meant, and didn't press it.

But then Jin Ling started nagging to come along because his two best friends who were _totally_ not his friends but rather definitely, absolutely, his rivals, would be abroad and he would in no way miss them but would be remiss that they might learn more than he would, so Wei WuXian suggested he come along. And Jiang Cheng laughed in his face. "You think I'd send him to America for a year with _you?"_

"I thought I'd ask."

"He's a teenager! These are formative years! I might as well send him to reform school right now if I send him to a foreign country with you!"

"That's a little harsh."

"It is not. It's true." Jiang Cheng had taken a swig of alcohol and coughed.

_He's a teenager._

_He's growing up, and he'll be off on his own soon._

_And you don't know what to do, and you're scared_.

"You're right," Wei WuXian had said.

Jiang Cheng snorted. "Excuse me?"

"He'd miss you too much. Without your guidance."

"That's not—" Jiang Cheng had waved his hand. "Oh, go away."

But he'd called WangJi about getting visas two days later. And now they lived across the hall from each other, and XiChen lived upstairs. "Success," Wei WuXian had proclaimed when they boarded the plane.

Now, though, Jiang Cheng looked thoroughly miserable, and Wei WuXian couldn't stand it. If his brother needed to yell at someone, he was a perfect target. And WuXian was used to it anyways.

"A-Ling likes school," Jiang Cheng finally stated, unclenching his fists. "I'm not taking him out over such a trivial matter. I'll go to this stupid parenting class. Officer Dickenson said it's taught on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"You'll have fun with the other daddies and mommies," teased Wei WuXian.

"Get out!"

Okay, enough was enough. WuXian took his leave. He giggled on his way across the hall. Lan WangJi shook his head.

"What?" Wei WuXian smirked up at him. "Jiang Cheng loves Jin Ling. He'd do anything for the kid; he just has to pretend he hates him."

"You're not any different."

"Well, of course not," said Wei WuXian, unlocking their door. "I'd do anything for SiZhui and JingYi. Including not telling you when they have their reports due at school."

"The teachers emailed all the parents their syllabi. Nice try."

"Dammit." Wei WuXian craned his neck. They had a small place with one bedroom for him and his husband and a loft upstairs for the two boys. "Spicy congee for dinner?"

"That wasn't what I meant," said Lan WangJi.

"Hm?" He headed to their tiny kitchen, getting out pots and pans and chili powder.

"Jiang Cheng. He'd do anything for _you_ , too. Even move halfway across the globe."

Wei WuXian rolled his eyes. "He probably feels obligated to make sure Jin Ling's besties achieve peak moral character and therefore must protect them from me."

"No," said Lan WangJi. "He wants to reconcile with you. But both of you are stubborn." He removed the chili powder.

"Give it back!"

"No. I'll measure it out."

"Fine, have it your way. We're doing sex vanilla for the next week since you can't handle spice." Wei WuXian pouted.

The door banged open. JingYi raced by, clamping his hands over his ears. SiZhui shook his head, smiling.

"Hey! How's the Big Apple? How's the girls at school?" called Wei WuXian. His husband elbowed him. "Ow!"

"Welcome home," said Lan Wangji.

* * *

"I've already got your first sign-up, Max!" Charlie Dickenson beamed as he approached the table where Ash was having breakfast with his friend, Max, who might as well be his dad at this point, and Max's wife, Jessica, and their son Michael. Ash was supposed to meet up with Eiji, Yut-Lung, and Sing within the hour.

"Great." Max beamed.

Charlie waved, heading to the counter to order a donut and coffee before going in to his shift at the police station.

"I can't believe you're teaching a parenting class," Jessica mumbled.

Max snorted. His eyes met Ash's. It was for a story he was working on. After the story about how all these politicians had been sex trafficking young boys made waves throughout the nation, Max had been offered a series of far-reaching, high-impact stories, and instead he chose smaller, human-interest stories. Like this one. Parenting.

 _You don't have to restrict yourself on account of me._ Ash didn't know how to say that, so he drained his cup of coffee, the liquid burning and bitter. He coughed.

Jessica slapped his back. "Don't choke."

It was so strange, more or less having parents. And as Ash said goodbye and stepped out into the brilliant sunlight of a New York fall, he thought that he was still expecting to see Dino or his goons around the corner, ready to shoot him or worse, shoot Eiji. Dreams still haunted him, dreams in which his finger found the trigger, and his best friend dropped in front of him again, dreams in which a camera's shutter clicked and clicked above him, and when he had those dreams he would lie awake, watching Eiji's sleeping form, and remind himself that they were safe now.

But with memories like that, were they ever safe? The world was full of reminders ready to leap out from behind any corner, a boogeyman that no parent could chase away.

Maybe they weren't safe. But Eiji had chosen to stay with him. And Yut-Lung was now a friend, against all odds, and Sing too. And he had weekly dinners with Max and Jessica, and breakfasts too.

"You ready?" called Sing's voice from behind him. Ash whirled to see Eiji and Yut-Lung approaching as well, both of them still looking awkward around each other, but they were at least smiling.

"How's Max?" questioned Eiji.

"Good. Excited about that parenting class," said Ash. A leaf drifted down from a nearby tree, orange and scarlet. He caught it and tucked it behind Eiji's ear. Eiji flushed.

Yut-Lung sniffed, tossing his long hair. He slung his arm around Sing. Always competitive. "Did you register yet, Ash?"

"Mm." Ash nodded. "I don't see why Blanca's making us take these classes." His old mentor was insisting on paying for college classes for them. Which might or might not be guilt money for having royally fucked up Ash's life. And Yut-Lung's.

"It'll be fun," Yut-Lung proclaimed.

"Until you start crying like a girl because I got a 97 and you got a 96."

"Maybe I'll tell Jessica what you said about girls crying," taunted Yut-Lung. "Like girls are weak. She might disagree."

Ash shoved him.

"That's my boyfriend you're shoving there," warned Sing.

"It is strange, though," Ash commented, lower lip sticking out. "For Blanca to go from 'you can't have a normal life' to 'take a college class or I'll leave for the Caribbean again.'"

"Did he really say that?" demanded Eiji, a scowl on his face.

Ash shrugged. The light breeze wafted through the air. A car horn blared, disrupting the mood, followed by an overturned trash can of swears. "It's not like Blanca wasn't right in some ways. About the normal life part. From his perspective anyways." That was why he'd tried to send Eiji away. Separating the normal from the hopelessly fucked up. And yet, it hadn't worked. And he was glad it hadn't, glad Eiji was here.

_I don't have to have an ordinary life._

_I don't have to have an extraordinary one, either._

_I just want one with you._

He didn't know why he should be different than Blanca, though. Both murderers. Yut-Lung, too. Sing, too.

And that was why they had to be different now. Sing was too young to end up like them. _And Blanca—if you can live with yourself, maybe I can live with myself._ Because living via fucking random girls and downing cocktails in the Caribbean was, contrary to popular consensus, clearly not living for Blanca.

"I wish he'd stay with me," Yut-Lung said. "I hate that big house all empty. Except when Sing stays over. And Lao sometimes too."

"You just want a dad," teased Sing.

"I do not! I hate dads! And brothers!" Yut-Lung kicked a rock down a sidewalk.

Eiji shook his head. Ash sighed. He still remembered what Yut-Lung had told him about who his dad was, and what his brothers had done to him. And Ash's dad wasn't much better. _We both had sucky lots in life_.

And yet Blanca had come back for them. Blanca had tried to save both of them, in his own way, sending Sing to Yut-Lung, helping Ash take down the monster who raped him. But only after abandoning both of them when they needed him most, Ash when he was fourteen and Yut-Lung after telling him about his mother's death. Though Ash supposed that it was a relief to Blanca that they were now getting along as friends, instead of as enemies trying to force him to choose between them. Well, Yut-Lung had tried to force.

"I have an idea," Sing announced, grinning.

"Oh no," said Yut-Lung. "That's dangerous."

"Shut up." Sing jabbed Yut-Lung's ribs with his elbow. "Why not sign Blanca up for Max's class? If he's forcing you to take college classes, you should be able to force him to take this class."

"He wouldn't go," Ash scoffed.

"He might," mused Yut-Lung. "I've always wondered why he came back for you."

"Huh?" Ash's mouth fell open. They stopped for a traffic light. Ahead was the bookstore.

"I mean, when I drafted the plan to get you back in Dino's hands if he killed my brothers for me, I didn't know who was stronger than you. I just wanted to see if such a person existed." Yut-Lung bit his lip, his bangs shrouding his eyes. Sing squeezed his shoulder. "Dino said he might not want to do it—Blanca. But he agreed in the end. Probably because he thought it was best for you, and the best way to save you."

Ash gulped. He knew this, of course, and yet it still stung.

"If we frame it as 'do it for us and _our_ good,' and maybe get Jessica to help, he might agree," Yut-Lung mused. "The world is scared of her."

Watching Yut-Lung plot to manipulate in real time was fascinating. Ash shook his head. The little glowing white man sign appeared across the street, telling them to cross the street.

"Aren't you supposed to be in school?" Eiji demanded, turning to Sing.

"Meh, I can skip today." Sing shrugged, stretching his arms above his head. "Lao doesn't care. I'll just tell everyone who cares, which is no one, that I'm hanging out with my _college_ boyfriend."

Yut-Lung moaned. Not that he was old enough to be in college. Or, well, he was seventeen now, but he'd finished school early, like Ash.

 _I guess at eighteen I_ would _be starting college,_ Ash thought. _If my life was normal._ The smell of fresh books hit him as they entered a bookstore and buy textbooks, and it smelled unfamiliar.

He didn't know what to do.

"You'll have to help me not fail," Eiji commented. "A class in English—"

"Your English is great." Ash shrugged. "You'll do well." He had to. Ash needed Eiji to finish his degree, because he couldn't help but remember that the reason Eiji had dropped out of college was to help him. _I can't have ruined your life._

Come to think of it, that probably explained why Blanca was forcing Ash and Yut-Lung to take the class. For Eiji's and Sing's sakes.

Eiji's brow creased.

_You still worry about belonging._

_I want you here. Or in Japan. I just want to be with you. I want to be good for you, not bad for you. Please…_

"Hey," Ash said. "Of course I'll help you. Wouldn't bother me at all."

Eiji smiled.

* * *

"Ha. Ha." His husband stared at Illumi, letting out a laugh that, for a clown, sounded remarkably flat, the sound tumbling from his lips to the ground like broken pebbles.

"It's not a joke." Illumi swung his long hair over his shoulder. "Chrollo mentioned it because he wants to get close to that reporter who worked on that wild politician sex trafficking story. The reporter's teaching the class. Plus, our family therapist thinks it's a good idea."

"Which is precisely why it isn't!" Hisoka gaped at him. "Spending two nights a week listen to some stupid stiff tell us how we're fucking up your brothers because we suck at raising them is—"

 _He can hardly tell me I'm worse than I already know I am_ , Illumi thought. _I let Mom and Dad abuse them for years. I even helped. I called Alluka my brother when she's my sister and I ignored Kalluto and I smothered Killua because he was the only one to show me love_.

 _But you married me. I'm not alone anymore._ Illumi leaned back against the headboard to their bed. He almost smiled.

"What?" demanded Hisoka. His golden heart-shaped earrings swung.

"So you admit you're a parent?" Hisoka pretty much did step in, helping Illumi sort himself out as he got custody of his three youngest siblings. Killua was a high school sophomore, Alluka in eighth grade, and Kalluto in seventh. Milluki was in his third year at college and living in Illumi's basement. And Hisoka, as a famous wrestler who never lost—except once to Chrollo Lucilfer when Chrollo played dirty—pretty much mentored Killua's best friend, Gon.

"Obviously? I married you?" Hisoka shrugged. "The kids are fine. Take Milluki with you."

"He's a student."

"He's a couch potato."

"He goes outside nowadays."

"Potatoes need sun to grow."

"They grow in the dirt."

"The plants still need sunlight!"

Illumi shrugged.

Hisoka moaned. "Why are you listening to this therapist? You know if Chrollo sees me there he will never let it go, right?"

Illumi stiffened. He leaned forward. "So is _that_ it?"

"Huh?" Hisoka ran his hand through his hair, loose and damp after his shower like Illumi liked it, though he would never admit to Hisoka that he had a preferred way for Hisoka to style his hair. If he did, Hisoka would style his hair the moment he emerged from the shower and never let Illumi see it down again.

Illumi stitched his words carefully, inching closer. "You're choosing Chrollo over me. You want to keep your pride with him over the person you married—"

"That is bullshit!" Hisoka scowled.

"It's true," Illumi said, pressing his forehead to his husband's. Hisoka's breath felt warm on Illumi's face. Illumi's dark hair fell like a curtain around them. "Besides, it'll help you with Gon."

"Right. In learning what not to do, aka not follow a sentence of some buffoon's advice. So Gon can have fun instead of being responsible." Hisoka's golden eyes pleaded with Illumi.

He wasn't backing down. "Well, I'm going. Do what you want." Illumi rolled over. The air, away from Hisoka's presence, suddenly felt cold on his face.

"Oh, come on," complained Hisoka.

"If you don't give me what I want I won't give you what you want."

"But you want to fuck too," pleaded Hisoka.

If he had to suffer to make Hisoka suffer, he would. Illumi refused to so much as move a finger.

A scream echoed down the stairs. Illumi leaped up. "Shit!"

Alluka, having one of her nightmares and fits again. The school had promised they'd be better about treating her like a normal student despite her mental health issues this year, and Illumi had vowed to hold them to it. But then again, holding someone or something to a high standard had never been Illumi's problem.

No, Illumi's problem came in moments like this. When Killua, their middle brother, the favorite, the most talented according to his IQ scores, the only one who'd seen Alluka as a human being and as the girl she was before this year, was the only one whom Alluka could turn to. Illumi paused outside of Alluka's room, watching as Killua held his sister, comforting her.

_I don't know how to do that._

No one came for him when he had nightmares. One time he woke his parents up. He was three, and his father hit him so hard he had a mark on his face for a week. He learned to embrace them instead. They were chances to be less weak, to work on overcoming fear.

Even asleep, he couldn't rest.

It was still a peculiar concept: taking time to breathe, to just be in someone else's presence.

"You're safe here," Killua promised Alluka.

 _You shouldn't have to._ His brother was only fifteen. Too young for this kind of thing, really, to act like a parent. But their own parents had their rights severed last year.

Illumi couldn't go in. He had nothing to offer.

He stomped into the kitchen, brewing a cup of coffee black, the way he liked it. He pulled out cream and sugar for Hisoka.

And Illumi was not like Killua. Even now, he could feel it nagging him: his parents' disapproval, their preference of Killua, the preference he'd told himself he was happy about, because Killua really was the smartest of them all according to the IQ test.

" _You aren't okay with it," his therapist had told him. "And you never were."_

He'd never taken it out on Killua, though.

" _Yes, you did," she said. "You pushed him to be better, because if he really was better, then you could accept it. You tried to control him, because you wanted to be in charge of your family business."_

And now he would never play a role in Zoldyck Insurance, but he was in charge of his family anyways. His siblings. And every day he still thought to himself that he was afraid, and he didn't even have the option of going to parents nowadays. But a parenting class? That he could do.

_You shouldn't have to be so strong, Killua._

_I helped Mom and Dad steal your childhood, tutoring you whenever they asked, even when they didn't ask, because I wanted them to praise you, to praise me._

_I want to give it back to you._

"Fine," grumbled Hisoka's voice from behind him.

"Oh?" Illumi turned, arching an eyebrow. He handed Hisoka a steaming cup of coffee, almost white from the amount of cream in it.

"I'll go with you." Hisoka yawned. "But only if you let me tie you up tonight since the coffee's gonna keep us awake for a bit."

"Knock yourself out." Illumi bit back a smirk. He sipped his coffee.

* * *

"That is officially the worst idea you've ever had." Lin rested his chin on his hands, arms perched on the back of the couch. His roommate shrugged into a giant sweater, the one he wore so often Lin was afraid to ask if it was the same design in multiple sweaters and if so, why, or if it was actually the same one and it'd never seen the inside of a laundromat, and if so, why.

"It's good for Jiro!" Banba protested, grabbing a baseball cap. Of course. Baseball. Lin swore that that had to be the real reason Banba wanted to move to New York and it had nothing to do with getting away from weirdos from their past who kept showing up wanting to kill them. Since he'd known Banba, the famed Nawaka Samurai hitman, the man didn't back down from a fight. So when he'd said he wanted to go to New York, Lin had assumed it was either for a job or for baseball. Not that Banba didn't already obsessively follow Japanese baseball.

"Jiro has a kid," Lin pointed out. Well, sort of. Not that Misaki was really Jiro's. Well, legally she was now.

"Don't wanna leave Jiro alone," was what Banba had offered when Lin asked him why he was moving. And it took Lin about a day to forge the paperwork he needed to get a visa. "You sure you wanna come with me, Lin? English's not your fave skill."

"Fuck off, Banbaka," Lin had replied, and Banba never asked him again.

Banba shrugged, guzzling a can of cola. At this rate Banba was going to get cavities and given what Lin had heard about the healthcare system here, he'd probably get a brain infection and die because Lin was not shelling out one penny to help him.

Okay, Banba could afford it. Whatever.

He wondered if Banba was missing their baseball team back home, the Hakata Tonkotsu Ramens. The ramen place they went to last night sucked in comparison. Though Lin was certain there had to be decent food somewhere in this god forsaken city.

"You're just going for free snacks," he taunted finally.

Banba snorted. "Free snacks're good."

"Freeloader."

"You're crashin' on my couch. Wouldn't even let me get you a bed."

The truth was, Lin found beds too soft. He'd never had a proper mattress, not in his village back in China, where his mother scraped to even send him and his little sister to bed with food in their stomach, not in the training hostel where they took trafficked kids and turned them into assassins, not in any of his travels since.

"I like the couch," was all he said.

Banba shrugged. "You could come with."

"I'm not having kids."

"Free snacks for a freeloader."

Lin gritted his teeth, turning around and tossing his long hair, dyed blonde. "I don't feel like it." He snatched a magazine. People.

"Are you bored at all, Lin?"

"Me?" Lin turned around, snorting. "Not hardly."

Very. He wasn't sure what to do. Look into how be a hitman in New York? It was all he knew how to do, after all. Kill. Take money, and kill more. Hide, run, play with shadows. But Jiro had the chance to take Misaki away from all that here, in New York.

He never thought Jiro would actually do that. Leave his shady business for the sake of that kid. Even move their cat there.

"I heard some colleges are still registerin' students."

"I probably know more than all the professors put together." So many languages, world histories, all crammed into his brain and sealed with a blow from a whip or a fist.

"Then you can make 'em all look stupid." Banba winked.

Link almost smiled. "Don't worry about me. Go make all the dads and moms look stupid, Banbaka."

"Can you try to find some good ramen while I'm gone?" Banba called.

"Yeah, sure." Lin rolled his eyes, putting on his heels. Every time he stepped out he got hoots and hollers, whistles and winks. He wondered how any of the men harassing him would feel if they realize they were drooling over not a beautiful woman, but a beautiful man who just happened to enjoy crossdressing. Skirts were comfortable. And he looked good in them. Most of them weren't even worth so much as an acknowledgement, grimy hoodlums, not worth a pretty woman's glance.

He bought the ramen Banba had asked for. He doubted it would satisfy Banba, but he wouldn't waste it either. Lin headed back up the street as the skies flames mauve and crimson. He hesitated, and then boarded the metro, heading for Chinatown.

He bought some groceries across from a restaurant called Chang Dai, and wondered if he should stop in and pick up some food or try to make Chinese food, but he couldn't remember if there was something specific he was craving, or if he was hungry at all. _Why did I come here?_

He wandered out of the store, stopping in front of the restaurant to text Banba. _Got your ramen._

He didn't press send. What if it wasn't good? Better not get Banba's hopes up.

A hand brushed under his skirt. Lin reacted on instinct. His foot swung up, heel landed in the man's throat. "Watch it, bastard!"

The man's hands flew up. And then his mouth dropped. "You're a guy?"

"I'm a person either way, dumbass!" Lin spat at him.

"Hey! Didn't I tell you not to do that again?" bellowed a kid. He raced over, blue jacket flapping, fury directed at the catcaller. His fist collided with the man's jaw. "Nice kick."

 _Me?_ Lin arched his brows. "Not bad yourself, pipsqueak."

"Excuse me?" shrieked the kid. His voice cracked. His jaw tightened. He didn't look exactly like a kid. More like someone awkwardly shooting up and being unable to fully comprehend how they suddenly had arms that were twice as long as they'd used to be. That never happened to Lin, but he watched some of the other kids in the academy grow. Lin grew his hair out instead.

Whatever. Lin couldn't be bothered. He turned and walked away.

He should get back to the apartment.

Maybe he'd get lost, first.


	2. Adulting

Illumi didn't even blink when Hisoka agreed to meet him at the community center on Tuesday evening and showed up wearing his typical clown makeup, heels, and a clown outfit. He'd probably worn it to the gym to train with Gon, too. Conformity was for losers, in Hisoka's view. In Illumi's as well, but he didn't let on as much.

"Let's meet our fellow deadbeats. If Gon's dad shows up I'll break his nose," Hisoka said, cracking his knuckles. "He'd never take a class, though."

Neither would Illumi's parents. They still thought they'd raised them right by beating and torturing them.

He opened the door. There were two long tables. At the back one sat a man wearing makeup and another man, younger, with unkempt brown hair and wearing a giant sweater. A huge man in a white suit sat next to him. There were two seats free at the front table. A lone man with a purple shirt sat there, arms crossed and scowling. His gaze swept Hisoka up at down, and his lip curled.

 _Figures_. Illumi sat next to the purple man. The door banged open again, and Hisoka mumbled a swear word.

Chrollo Lucilfer stood there, bandage wrapped around his forehead tattoo, but still otherwise looking like a one-man goth fashion show.

"You're not a daddy," Hisoka greeted him. "Unless there's something I don't know about, or Kurapika's suddenly grow a uterus."

"I have other business here," Chrollo retorted, winking.

"Like what?" asked Hisoka, sweetness in his voice that definitely meant he wanted to create a scene. Illumi contemplated stabbing him.

"Not a dad either," said the sweater man from the back. He lifted his hand in greeting. His accent was Japanese. Illumi recognized it.

"Fascinating," said Hisoka sarcastically.

The man in a white suit arched his eyebrows. "Japan?"

"Yeah!" exclaimed the man. "Both of us are." He jabbed his thumb at the guy in makeup. "Just moved here."

"As a couple?" Hisoka kicked his shoes up, putting them on the desk. Purple Man wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"No!" The man laughed. "Jiro here's got a daughter he adopted, Misaki. She's eight. And I moved here with my roommate 'cause we're close friends and kinda like a family. Name's Banba, Zenji Banba."

"Roommates? So that's what they're calling it these days." Hisoka flicked his earring. Illumi turned to glower at him. "What?"

"Are _you_ two a couple?" asked Jiro.

"We're married." Illumi flashed his ring. "Illumi Zoldyck. Hisoka Morow."

"Of Zoldyck Insurance?" White Suit pinched the bridge of his nose.

Illumi stiffened. "Not anymore."

"I heard it's being liquidated," said White Suit pleasantly. "Blanca."

"What kind of name is that?" blurted out Banba.

Blanca eyed Hisoka suspiciously. But Banba was the one who looked at Blanca with his eyes widened, almost as if there was some kind of history there. And Blanca's face turned the color his name suggested.

"You two know each other?" Hisoka prompted.

 _Okay, what do you know?_ Illumi slid his eyes towards his husband.

"Know _of_ him," Banba stated, folding his arms.

"I left," said Blanca. "The business."

"What business?" asked Illumi. Purple Man rubbed his temples. Chrollo's eyes lit up, and Illumi was pretty sure he was already recording for his shitty underground newspaper.

"We're from Hakata," Banba said. "Also left."

"Ah." Blanca nodded. Both of them relaxed.

"Code names, mysterious business, Hakata," mused Hisoka, tapping his chin. "Be careful, idiots. Chrollo here's a reporter and I think he'd love to slice up your lives for his newspaper."

"You're the one alienating everyone," Chrollo said with a fake smile plastered to his face.

Illumi made a mental note to make Hisoka's coffee with less sugar tomorrow if he didn't tell him what he knew.

"Good news, Illumi," said Hisoka. "We're not the worst parents here."

 _That's a relief_. Illumi nodded. Everyone suddenly glared at him. _What?_

"I'm not a parent," said Blanca. "Here for some—kids I mentor."

"Same," said Hisoka. "And, I guess, we're raising his siblings."

"You love my siblings."

Hisoka scowled, but he wasn't going to contradict Illumi on that. "How about you?" His gaze landed on a new victim: Purple Man.

"I'm raising my nephew. His parents died," said the man in another accent. Black hair hung around his face. "Jiang Cheng. Were you mandated to take this class?"

"No?" Hisoka blinked. A smirk spread across his face. "Don't tell me _you_ were? Oh! You _were_. We've found it Illumi! We've found the worst parent—"

Jiang Cheng leaped to his feet. Illumi jumped up in front of his husband, loose hair swinging around him. Even Chrollo took a step forward, glancing at Illumi as if asking if he wanted Chrollo to restrain his husband.

"You're shameless," Jiang Cheng finally seethed. "You belong in the children's class."

"Absolutely yes to the first, and probably," Hisoka agreed. "Don't worry; you don't interest me enough for me to keep provoking you."

Jiang Cheng's jaw fell open as if he was actually offended. There was something dark there, burning in his eyes, a resentment coating his words, and it felt familiar to Illumi, like a mirror he'd seen before.

"Am I the only one here who actually _wants_ to be a good parent?" interrupted Jiro.

"I want you to be a good parent," Banba assured, patting his friend's shoulder.

Illumi lowered himself back into his seat, keeping his gaze locked on Jiang Cheng the whole time. Jiang Cheng glared back.

The door opened. A rather plain-appearing man with a tweed jacket appeared. He smiled at Blanca.

Chrollo shook his head. He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms.

"Welcome," said the teacher. "I'm Max Lobo, and I thought we'd all introduce ourselves, and say a little bit about our kids? I've got a son with my wife. His name's Michael and he likes to draw. And I've got a teenager whom we've more or less adopted, a gang leader named Ash. Or he was a gang leader. I'm here because I want to learn from all of you as well."

Illumi tightened his grip on the edge of the desk. _What do you mean, you don't know everything?_

"Is he fully recovered, attending school like a good son now?" Hisoka questioned.

"He almost got himself killed more times than I can count, but he is starting college, and he took down the mafia don and helped break the story about the politicians that's been in the news," Max stated. "Even if he doesn't finish college, I couldn't be more proud of him. Because he's always _trying_ , trying to make things better, always thinking of the people he loves. I just wish he'd think of himself a little more. He hasn't given up hope in anything but himself, not the world, not the people around him, and he's learning how to have hope for himself." He gestured for Hisoka to go next.

"I'll go last," Hisoka said.

Shit. Illumi pressed his lips together. "Illumi Zoldyck. I'm raising my four younger siblings after our parents—their rights were terminated last year. Well, Milluki's in college, but he lives with me. Killua's a sophomore in high school. Alluka's thirteen. Kalluto's twelve."

"Jiang Cheng. I'm raising my nephew. He's in high school."

Jiro detailed his relationship with his adopted daughter Misaki, and Banba shrugged. "Haven't got a kid. Got a roommate, though."

"Blanca, and I mentored the Ash Max mentioned, and another boy," said Blanca. "Yut-Lung Lee."

Jiang Cheng frowned. Clearly he recognized the name. So did Illumi. His parents had done business with the Lees, and with Golzine as well. He really shouldn't be so surprised to hear Golzine had been such a disgusting pervert.

"I'm Hisoka, the wrestler," said Hisoka. "And I'm married to Illumi, and I will kill anyone who messes with those kids, unless they learn well from it. Oh, and I happen to know some key details that you all conveniently left out. Like that your adopted brother, Jiang Cheng, recently—how should I put this—had his name cleared after years of being a fugitive for supposedly killing your sister and her husband—the parents of that nephew you mentioned? And Blanca, you're an assassin. Well reputed, but I think this sweet innocent seeming Banba has you beat, because he's the Nawaka Samurai, aka Japan's most well known assassin. Or he was. Oh, and Jiro was clearly involved in that too, but he's probably sincere in trying to raise the daughter of one of the bastards he killed. Don't worry, he only killed bad people." Hisoka stretched his arms above his head. "Are we done?"

Silence. Hisoka's words punched everyone.

"You looked at my files," Chrollo stated.

"Whoops."

 _Assassins_? Illumi's head swum. _Well, I guess I'm not alone in how we've lived_. _Insurance denials was just another way to kill people._

"And now you all know Chrollo has that information, so _you're welcome,_ " Hisoka added.

Everyone's brows knotted as if they couldn't decide to kill Hisoka or Chrollo. Blanca looked as if he was about to grab a gun and snipe both of them. Banba was halfway out of his chair. Jiang Cheng's mouth opened and closed as if he wanted to defend his honor—or his brother's?

"I'm not writing a story on you all!" shouted Chrollo. "For fuck's sake! I just research—everyone—"

"Okay, okay," interrupted Max. "We get it, okay? All of us here maybe wouldn't be ideal candidates for—parents or mentors or guardians, take your pick. But we're here because we want to do our best. Even you." He glowered at Hisoka.

"I'd like to know just what this _story_ is," Jiang Cheng said. His words came frostbitten, bleeding and cracked.

"It's about him," said Chrollo, jabbing his finger at Max. "You—can all read it—before I publish it. It has no identifying details and nothing to do with any of you!"

"Keep my brother out of it."

"Keep Misaki out of it," said Jiro.

"Keep me and Lin out of it," said Banba. Lin must be the roommate.

"I don't care," said Illumi.

Blanca said nothing.

"Can we begin?" Max pleaded.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Hisoka what?" Kurapika arched his eyebrows over the book of ancient Chinese poems he was reading. Class wasn't starting until tomorrow, and yet he was determined to get ahead in the syllabus.

"You heard me." Chrollo marched into the house they shared, grabbing their tea kettle and turning on the stove. "Why does he have to ruin everything?"

"It's not like you've never provoked him," Kurapika informed his boyfriend, returning to his book.

Chrollo cast him a disparaging look. Kurapika ignored him.

In truth, he was happy to see Chrollo annoyed about it, instead of just blindly accepting whatever fate threw at him like he always used to. _When I see you still fighting it, I hope it'll get a little easier._

_Is that selfish of me?_

They could be like this. Picking on each other, and still choosing each other. Not because fate, but because they wanted each other. No matter how strange it was that Kurapika would be in love with the man whom he blamed for his family's demise for so long.

Chrollo set a cup of tea down in front of Kurapika.

"Want me to get Killua to throw out Hisoka's hair gel?" Kurapika finally offered, shutting the book. Killua and Gon were two of Kurapika's best friends.

"Replace it with teal dye instead."

"He'd probably not care."

Chrollo scowled. He brought his teacup to his lips. "Everyone there is really—they make me look like a saint. Except maybe Jiang Cheng. Everyone else is some kind of actual criminal." He smirked. "I fit right in."

"You're not a thief anymore."

He lifted his shoulders. "I still am. Of information. Just like a Robin Hood. Stealing information to help people."

"Did you finish the book?" Kurapika's eyes lit up. He loved talking books with Chrollo. And he could tell neither of them really wanted to discuss the things they'd done, the lives they'd ruined, the people they'd hurt.

"I wish a Robin Hood existed when I was growing up on the streets of Meteor City," Chrollo answered, grinning, and they spent the evening dissecting the story.

When Kurapika woke the next morning to the sound of Chrollo's alarm going off—probably for some kind of interview for the story he was working on, which was definitely not merely fluffy human interest about a parenting class, though he was surely using that as a cover—Kurapika rolled over. He didn't have to get up for class just yet.

He felt Chrollo's lips brush his forehead before his boyfriend got up. Kurapika smiled in spite of himself, drifting back off to sleep. He got up when his alarm went off and made his way to the college he attended, greeting his friends Leorio and Melody before heading to his first class, Chinese Lit. The professor was apparently some big shot superstar in his field.

Though, when Kurapika arrived, he blinked. The man with long hair and sculpted cheekbones greeted him, inviting him to take a seat. And yet he looked unsettlingly familiar.

Kurapika whipped out his phone, texting Chrollo. _Is Lan XiChen related to anyone in that class you're working with?_

Chrollo texted back almost immediately. _He's the brother-in-law of the sour one, or really the brother of the brother-in-law._

Kurapika didn't remember which one the sour one was. He'd only helped Chrollo organize all his files, not read them in detail. _HE'S MY PROFESSOR._

_I hear he's an upstanding citizen._

Kurapika bit his lip.

"This seat taken?"

Kurapika lifted his eyes to see a boy with blonde hair and eyes the color of jade kicking the desk next to him. Kurapika shook his head. The boy dropped down into the chair. A small Asian boy who looked like he was barely old enough to be in high school, much less college, sat next to the blonde. Another boy, whom Kurapika almost thought was a girl at first thanks to his long black hair, sat behind them. The blonde and the younger-looking one were holding hands.

Professor Lan turned out to be wonderful. He closed their class reading a poem about loss. It struck Kurapika through his chest, the words scraping his spine.

_You know what it's like to lose someone._

His mind splattered with the image of his family, long since buried by now. And guilt came back again.

_Why isn't it getting easier?_

_Mom, Dad, Pairo..._

He had to get out of there, before he bled out.

Kurapika scrambled to his feet the second they were dismissed.

"Are you okay?" asked the young-looking boy.

Kurapika ignored him, rushing past.

"What happened?" asked the blonde.

"His eyes were red."

"Like crying?" questioned the long-haired one.

"No, like red, like they were bright red."

The famous Kurta eyes, flaring scarlet when emotions took over. Kurapika sucked in his breath. _Calm down. Calm down._

He didn't want to remember it. Not now. He wanted to be healed. He wanted to be fixed. He didn't want to go home and have Chrollo see his eyes and feel yet around that horrible knotting feeling in his stomach, the one that choked him with guilt. "It's genetic," he said, turning to face them. He kept his hands at his sides, instead of covering his scarlet eyes.

"Wow," breathed the young one. "They're beautiful."

Kurapika shrugged.

"Are you okay, though?" the boy pressed.

Kurapika frowned. "What do you mean? I just told you—"

"But you seemed upset." The boy had puppy dog eyes. As if he actually felt badly. As if he actually cared. As if he knew.

He reminded Kurapika of Melody. "Kurapika," he said, holding out his hand.

"Eiji Okumura."

"Ash Lynx," said the blonde.

"Yut-Lung Lee."

He wasn't much for friends his own age. Leorio, and Melody, but they were different majors—pre-med and music, respectively. Gon and Killua were still in high school, like little brothers.

It still felt strange to think that he deserved to have friends, that he wasn't a blight that ensured his friends would suffer for being with him because of how loathsome a person he was. The type of person his family would be ashamed of, fucking Chrollo or not.

But Chrollo loved him. And Killua and Gon and Leorio texted him in their group chat every night.

Kurapika swallowed. "Do you want to get lunch?"

* * *

"Jiang Cheng didn't look very happy," Wei WuXian mused on Thursday evening.

WangJi arched his eyebrows. "Would _you_ be, after what happened on Tuesday's class?"

It'd taken half a bottle of wine to pry the story out of Jiang Cheng. A slight pinch of guilt landed in Wei WuXian's stomach, guilt that he was taking advantage of the fact that they were all alone in this foreign place and Jiang Cheng had never been very good at making friends and so had no one else to turn to.

Still, if there was any truth to what WangJi had said (and there usually was) about Jiang Cheng caring for him, he had to try. Although it seemed like Jiang Cheng had only finally told them because he could accuse Wei WuXian of fucking up his life even halfway across the globe.

He couldn't blame Jiang Cheng, though. He'd spent years thinking Wei WuXian had killed their sister and her husband, Jin Ling's parents. And instead it was someone else—sort of. If Wei WuXian hadn't set things in motion, they never would have gotten out of hand, and Jiang YanLi would still be alive to see her son growing up.

Jin Ling didn't hate him, though. Not anymore. He stormed over to their apartment once Jiang Cheng had gone to demand that SiZhui and JingYi come to a restaurant in Chinatown he heard was good.

"You're not going on your own," WangJi stated.

"We're fifteen!" Jin Ling shouted. SiZhui cringed at the disrespect.

 _Fifteen and stupid,_ thought Wei WuXian. Not that he was one to talk. He used to sneak out of their boarding school all the time at fifteen, usually to buy liquor. Lan WangJi, as their resident assistant, was the one who caught him most of the time. "We'll all go."

Jin Ling crossed his arms and huffed. "Fine."

The restaurant was called Chang Dai, and the woman who ran it was named Nadia. She greeted them with a smile, chatting in Cantonese. A golden wedding band sparkled on her finger. The food was good, and when Wei WuXian asked for extra spice, she made it so hot he was coughing.

"Tastes like home," Jin Ling said with a sigh as he crammed more food, albeit way less spicy than Wei WuXian's dish, into his mouth.

"Chew with your mouth shut," SiZhui said automatically. WangJi smiled.

Jin Ling poked SiZhui's cheek with his chopstick. Wei WuXian let out a laugh.

"How is school?" asked WangJi, voice soft.

"Classes are easy," said JingYi. "Even in English."

Jin Ling picked up a piece of pork and glared at it like he wanted to personally bring it back to life so he could slaughter the poor pig all over again. Wei WuXian had no idea what it had done to offend him, but he was pretty sure he knew exactly what did offend him. "How's friends?"

"No one will really talk to us," SiZhui said softly. "Because we're new, and—"

"Americans are dumb and stuck up," declared Jin Ling.

"And you want friends more than you can say, so you pretend you don't, so then you don't get any," said Wei WuXian. WangJi's eyes narrowed as if he was repressing a cringe.

"Hey! Shut up! Who do you think you are?"

"Your uncle?" _Jin Ling, why do you have to make it so hard for yourself?_ Wei WuXian felt like karma might be revisiting what he put WangJi through with Jin Ling.

" _Nadiaaaa_ , I'm starving," whined a voice from the door. A boy in a baggy blue jacket stumbled inside. He paused when he saw them sitting at the booth. "Oh hey. Don't you go to my school?"

"Don't remember you," said Jin Ling.

"I think so," said SiZhui.

"You're that senior in a gang!" shrieked JingYi.

 _He's that what in a what_? Wei WuXian and WangJi were both about to leap to their feet.

The boy laughed. "Yeah, kinda." He stretched his arms above his head. "Sing Soo-Ling. You can just call me Sing."

"Hi," said JingYi.

"Like the food here?" Sing grinned, noticing their almost-empty plates. "It's good, right? Way better than the vitamins and white bread crap the white folks eat."

Wei WuXian decided he approved of Sing as a friend for these three. Gang or not.

"No kidding," said JingYi.

"I'll make you dinner!" Nadia hollered from across the restaurant. Sing waved.

"Are you related to Nadia?" inquired SiZhui.

Sing shook his head. "Nadia's one of my friend's older sisters. She raised my friend."

"Does he go to our school too?" asked SiZhui.

Sing cleared his throat, gesturing towards a small table in the back. A framed photo of a boy with sunglasses, a daring eyebrow piercing, and a purple mohawk smirked at them. An incense stick glowed in front of it. Wei WuXian's heart dropped into his stomach. _Oh_.

"Sorry," whispered SiZhui.

"What happened?" asked Jin Ling. "Gang stuff?" He flinched. "Ow! Don't step on my foot, SiZhui!"

"Yeah," Sing said, meeting Jin Ling's eyes. "Pretty much."

Jin Ling stopped squirming. A solemn look spread into his eyes, and Wei WuXian knew he was thinking of the parents he couldn't even remember.

"You guys are sophomores, right?" Sing asked, changing the subject. "We should hang out. We share a lunch period, seniors and sophomores."

"Why do you go to school if you're in a gang?" Jin Ling asked.

"I _led_ a gang," Sing corrected. "Kinda trying away to step away from that life. My brother's running it now. Also Nadia told me she'd pull my ears off if I didn't finish high school, so."

Wei WuXian chuckled. WangJi glanced at him, eyebrows raised. "I'm trying to imagine Jiang Cheng's face when Jin Ling says he's made a friend and brings Sing home," Wei WuXian hissed into his ear.

"Maybe his parenting class will pay off," WangJi suggested.

"Doubt it. He's stubborn."

"Who're you?" Sing asked then.

"My uncle," said Jin Ling, pointing to Wei WuXian. "Sort of."

"We live with them," said JingYi. "My parents wanted WangJi to tutor me. And SiZhui's pretty much been adopted by them."

Jin Ling's eyes slid towards SiZhui. No doubt the boy didn't talk very much about his childhood. They were both orphans, though. And that was a feeling Wei WuXian knew well, of not having safety to fall back on, of feeling it ripped away. His parents had died when he was eight, and he lived on the street for a year until Jiang Cheng's father took him in.

"Wei WuXian," he said, holding out his hand to the boy. "Former fugitive, now freeloader. Don't worry, my name's been cleared."

Sing actually laughed.

"Lan WangJi," said his husband.

"They're married," SiZhui said softly.

"It's weird," said Jin Ling.

Sing frowned, hands on his hips. "Why's it weird?"

Jin Ling's face turned red.

The door opened, and a boy with hair longer than Jin Ling's strode in. Sing's eyes lit up. He raced over to the boy, grasping him and kissing him.

" _What?"_ yelped Jin Ling.

* * *

"You're affectionate," Yut-Lung groused, pulling away. Not that he minded. He loved it when Sing reminded him that he was wanted, lips stitching his, breaking his open at the same time, unafraid, clean. Especially in this place, where he felt guilt rising up again inside him, burning like acid.

Sing smirked. He slung his arm around Yut-Lung's shoulder. "This is my college boyfriend."

Yut-Lung narrowed his eyes. But Sing was proud of him, showing him off to his classmates. He straightened. "From your school?"

"Yeah," said Sing. "They're from China. Like you."

"I'm from Hong Kong." Yut-Lung tossed his hair. "Lee Yut-Lung."

"From the Lee family?" blurted out one of the adults. He was a fashion disaster, hair askew in a ponytail that actually resembled a donkey's tail. "Wei WuXian."

 _I know of you,_ Yut-Lung thought. _Except, you were innocent. More or less. Innocent of the worst of it, anyways._

_I'm not._

"See, gang leaders can be gay," said Sing. "Who you love means everything about what kind of person you are, but only in terms of, like, what that person is like inside."

Yut-Lung's face flushed. He noticed the wedding bands on the two adults' hands. And then he noticed the man in white's face. "Professor Lan!"

The man's eyes widened. "You're taking my brother's class?"

"Your brother?" Yut-Lung was going to guess that it was a situation more like Sing and his brother's, as opposed to Yut-Lung's situation, where his brothers spit on him and beat him on good days.

The man nodded. "Lan WangJi."

"Oh." Yut-Lung swallowed. "We're—your brother's class is very interesting."

"Why's someone like you even bothering to go to college?" asked a boy in yellow. "Aren't you rich? Didn't you inherit your family's underworld or something?"

"Jin Ling!" hissed one of the other boys.

Yut-Lung scowled. "Never been much for bloodlines." This boy seemed like the sort to wail for his daddy, or uncle, at the first sign of consequences.

_I want to choose my fate._

_I don't want to run the mafia just because I have his blood. The only reason they kept me alive was my blood. My brothers told me that._

_I want my own life._ He was trying to break away from it. College would be a step. Though he'd never been to an actual school before, having always had tutors. At least Ash and Eiji were with him, and Ash seemed as awkward as Yut-Lung felt.

"I have an idea," Wei WuXian said sweetly. "WangJi and I are going to have a nice, long, leisurely, romantic stroll back to our apartment. Your uncle should be back around nine, Jin Ling, so SiZhui, drag him back by then. You want some freedom, now you have it." He rose.

WangJi focused his gaze on Sing and Yut-Lung. Almost like a threat.

_Are you trying to make us be their friends? Unrealistic!_

WangJi handed the one called SiZhui a fistful of money just as Nadia hurried over with a platter of soup dumplings for Sing and Yut-Lung. Guilt gnawed at him. If it wasn't for his family, her brother would still be alive. And yet she really didn't blame him. She liked him, she liked his relationship with Sing, she'd given him clothing advice. He didn't understand how someone could forgive that much.

_I don't know how to make it up to you._

Sing glanced at him, and then sat down in the place the adults had just vacated. Yut-Lung dropped next to him, sighing.

JingYi and SiZhui were cool enough, though SiZhui seemed a bit boring. Jin Ling got under Yut-Lung' skin, though. He was arrogant as hell.

"Have you seen much of New York?" Sing asked as they left the restaurant together.

"Not yet," SiZhui said.

"We should take them around," Sing suggested, nudging Yut-Lung with his elbow. The night air felt cool and crisp. Autumn was closing in.

 _Why?_ Yut-Lung scowled.

"I don't think we're good enough for him," sneered Jin Ling.

"Excuse me?" Yut-Lung exclaimed.

"Well, what was that sour face about?"

"Like you're one to talk!" Jin Ling looked like he had lemon juice for blood.

Sing moaned.

"He looks so stuck-up—people from powerful families always are—"

Sizhui looked as if he wanted to dissolve in a snap of a towel. He cringed.

"I thought you were describing yourself," remarked JingYi.

Yut-Lung liked this one. "What do I even have to feel better than you about?" he shot back. "I know who your uncle is, Jin Ling. And I can guess you're the one who was orphaned. Well, guess what. So was I. Did you see your mother murdered in front of you? Are you a bastard son of a fifteen-year-old slave and her gross seventy-year-old owner? No? Then shut up!"

Jin Ling halted on the streets. His mouth hung open. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" Yut-Lung curled his fists. _You're—like—Eiji—and still like this?_

_Why do you get a normal life even after losing your parents?_

No, he could have one too. If he wanted. He could. He could.

"I am so sorry," whispered SiZhui.

Yut-Lung turned his face away. Sing's hand landed on his shoulder. Now they knew. There was no honor in the Lee family. Instead they stole respect from people, because they could.

"I didn't know," managed Jin Ling.

"Obviously not," Sing hurried to say.

A strange sound behind him, even amidst the chatter of drunks, the clanking of cans, the traffic running over the asphalt. Yut-Lung spun around.

"What is it?" Sing demanded.

"Nothing." He swallowed. No one was there. Still, he'd heard it—the fluttering sound of a camera. Hair stood up on the back of his neck.

"Everything okay?" venturied JingYi.

"Yeah," Sing said. "Let's walk you back, show you the way." He met Yut-Lung's gaze. _We'll talk later._

_It's over. It's over. It's over it's over it's over it's over it has to be over._

Maybe he imagined it. No, he definitely didn't. Yut-Lung rubbed his arms. Maybe it wasn't directed to him. Maybe it was just his selfish broken mind redirecting everything to himself. He tugged at his hair.

"Jin Ling's you," remarked Sing after they said goodbye to the trio.

"He is not!" squawked Yut-Lung.

"He is so," sang Sing. "Remember last time I said that? You and Ash?"

Yut-Lung shoved Sing. He stumbled over a sewer grate, cackling. And then his smile vanished. "What happened?"

He told Sing. "But they're gone."

_Please be gone._

_I thought the nightmare was over, and I was awake finally, and could live._

_I don't want to find out I was still in a nightmare all along._

Sing's arms closed around him. "We'll work it out."

And Yut-Lung could only think that he hoped Sing was right, he hoped Sing's arms would stay, and he hated himself for wondering, for the jealousy towards those three spiking inside of him.

_I'm still fucked up, Sing._

_You. You're real._

He clung to Sing.


	3. Brats Run the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! A warning for referenced homophobia (canon-compliant to MDZS, but still).

The more Max Lobo talked, the more Illumi realized how far he was from actually being a good parent, and how terrible of a brother he had been to Killua and Alluka and Kalluto. And how terrible of a parent his father was to him. And his mother.

Hisoka passed him a note. Illumi scowled. _What are we, middle schoolers in the 90s? We have phones!_

 _If you're miserable, we can leave,_ read the note.

Illumi ignored his husband. Hisoka shifted. He exhaled. Jiang Cheng glared at him as if to scold him for being so rude. Well, this was just going to encourage Hisoka to do it again. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Any questions?" Max asked.

"I got one," said Hisoka. He turned around to face the people sitting behind him. "What exactly are you two doing nowadays, if not killing people? Do you fake your resumes or are there people who would actually hire the likes of you? And was killing fun? Did it make you feel alive, to take another life, prove you had the right to exist by being stronger than someone else?"

_If this is your attempt to make me feel better, Hisoka, I'm going to punch you._

"I didn't think about it much at all," Banba said. "Just wanted to use it to kill the man who killed my dad. When he got outta jail." He rubbed his head, mussing his already messy hair.

"So they were just ants, not worthy of living to you?"

"Wasn't my job to judge them. Someone else did and gave me the money."

Max moaned. Still, he leaned against the door, as if to prevent anyone from overhearing. Illumi couldn't believe this idiot was actually talking about it.

"But you did, didn't you?" Hisoka crooned. "You deemed your objective—killing your poor daddy's murderer—more important than their lives."

Banba stared at him. "Maybe."

"That's all?" demanded Jiang Cheng, spinning around. "' _Maybe?'_ You don't give a shit about their lives?"

"Finally, you're useful," Hisoka opined.

"It let me meet Jiro," said Banba. "People like me, after my father—we don't get happy lives or clean deaths. But it let me meet people like Jiro and Misaki, and my roommate Lin, and back in Japan, lotsa other people too. Other people not having happy lives. So we got some happiness for ourselves. What's wrong with that?"

"Hmph." Chrollo kicked his boots up, laying them across the table. Jiro wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Why're you not going to have a happy life? What about if you want one?"

Banba swallowed. "Killed too many. Karma."

"Why?"

Banba frowned.

"Maybe try for a restful death, or a happy life, more than just waiting around to die," Chrollo snapped.

"I'm not waitin' around for anything. I want to live as happily as I can. Lin's like family, and—"

"Is Lin the not-boyfriend a hitman too?" scoffed Hisoka.

"He is not a boyfriend, and yeah, maybe?" Banba folded his arms. "He didn't have a choice in it, though. You know what human trafficking is?"

Max and Blanca exchanged a look. Chrollo leaned forward. Jiang Cheng's mouth hung open.

"Whatever. It ain't my story to tell."

"So does he have a normal job?" ventured Blanca.

"No? Tried to get him to sign up for college and he laughed." Banba shrugged.

"Is he like your kid?" Illumi asked.

"No! He's closer to my age. He's my friend."

"The kid I mentioned," said Max. "Ash. He's been through something similar. He started class this past week, though."

Blanca rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Ash and Yut-Lung. One of his friends."

"Huh? The Lee boy?" Jiang Cheng stuck out his jaw. "He's from a wealthy family, a ruling family, a respectable—he wouldn't have—"

"You underestimate how cruel families can be to each other," Blanca informed him.

Jiang Cheng flinched.

Hisoka chortled. "That's right." He slapped Illumi's shoulder. "If you want to learn about how cruel families are, just as Illumi about how his parents locked his transgender sister up in a basement for years. Or the time they killed his dog in front of him."

"Don't bring those up," snapped Illumi. He did not like those memories. Because he'd helped them lock Alluka up. And because he could still hear his dog crying.

_Do I deserve any happiness?_

"You don't know anything," Jiang Cheng finally said, grinding his pen into the table as if he wanted to drill through it.

"Maybe we could get 'em together," suggested Banba. "Like, Lin and those two you mentioned. It'd help him see that people care and—"

"So you _are_ admitting lives can change and aren't heading for a destined ending," Chrollo said.

"Why's it matter to you?"

"Because it's his shiny new perspective on life," Hisoka said. "Or, really, he's struggling not to believe the same about himself—"

Illumi leaped between Chrollo and Hisoka as Chrollo lunged for him. Chrollo raised his hands, backing down. "Fine, fine."

"I don't know if lives can change, once they're pushed into motion by—things that can't be controlled, cruel things," said Blanca. "But Ash and Yut-Lung are certainly trying. Though the whole reason I trained Ash in the first place—to be a killer—was because I thought there was no hope for him."

"And in doing so maybe you realized you were wrong," suggested Max, a smirk on his face.

"We will see," Blanca replied.

 _See, I can change,_ Illumi told himself. _I can._

He'd always been fighting, hadn't he been? Trying to control Killua to attain his inheritance as the oldest son, despite the fact that Killua's IQ was two points higher than his. Trying. Always trying, and yet knowing that it'd never be enough for his parents.

He could hear Alluka laughing with Killua in her room when they got home, Kalluto curled up on the couch playing a video game with Milluki.

_What if I can't?_

_What if I'm just broken? Or too lazy? Unable to take a step?_ He paused outside Alluka's room. She and Killua sounded happy, teasing as they played a board game. If he came in and asked to play with them, would he ruin it for them? W _hat if I still really want to control them, even their fun times?_

_Better sleep. I have work in the morning._

He turned away and saw Hisoka watching him, shadows covering his face, but for once Hisoka didn't say anything.

* * *

"Bad idea," Lin responded.

"Why's it a bad idea?" Banba plopped down on their couch, sticking chopsticks into his ramen.

"'Cause I don't talk to people about my past? You're the only one who knows about that shit." Lin's arm throbbed, right where his barcode tattoo was. He remembered them holding him down, crying and screaming as the needles broke through his skin. He was just a thing. "Besides, from the sound of it, I got the better deal than those two did."

"Sounds like they were both trained to be assassins too."

"Yeah, and prostitutes. I didn't have that." He easily could have, though. He rubbed his upper arm. Even if he was trained to kill, he was no better than a bag of food on a shelf, a knife, a tool. That's what hiring him was, anyways. "And we moved here to get away from that."

"Did we?"

He didn't know. He hoped so. And yet part of him was afraid that meant Banba was trying to get away from him. "Duh, Banbaka." Lin scowled, shrugging off the thoughts as he grabbed a pair of chopsticks himself, helping himself to Banba's ramen.

"Make your own!"

"No; it tastes better from your plate." Lin slurped the noodles.

When he first met Banba, Banba paid off Lin's debt for him, telling him he could have a different life. But he couldn't, because a killer—that was what he'd been raised to be. It'd been beaten and stabbed into him, seared in a cage when he killed his best friend. And his sister—she'd gotten the worst of it, just like this Ash and Yut-Lung had. Qaomei. Raped and murdered, a sex toy bought and discarded.

It didn't matter that her killer was dead now. Lin still wanted to scream at the thought of what happened to her. _I sold myself to those traffickers to save you!_

_I betrayed myself for nothing._

It felt so empty, but not in Hakata, not when he moved in with Banba and started playing for their stupid baseball team.

_Why did this Ash and this Yut-Lung get to survive?_

If he didn't deserve any kind of nice ending for himself, Qaomei surely did. And yet she was the dead one, burned to ashes and her ashes scattered. His mother, for all her insistence on protecting her children, rotting in a grave in rural China, her daughter sold and murdered, her son sold and a murderer.

Banba studied him.

"What?" snapped Lin.

"Nothing." He clicked his chopsticks. "Lin, are you happy?"

"Huh?" Lin blinked. He shrugged. _I want to be. Is that the same thing?_ "Yeah, I guess?" There was food in the fridge, and in his stomach. No one knew what he was except the people he trusted. He'd bought himself a new pair of heels and racy stockings to try out. "Are _you?"_

Banba swallowed. "Yeah, but if you're not—"

"I am," Lin interrupted. _As long as you are. I moved here so you could be._

_Were you going to say you'd move back for me?_

_Nah. More likely that you'd pay for my ticket back._

_If me leaving would make you happy..._ Lin scowled. "I'll meet them."

"You will?" Banba's eyes lit up.

"Don't get too excited; I'm sure they'll run screaming by the end."

Two days later, Lin stalked into the coffee shop on a college campus— _I see right through you, Banbaka_ —and up to the two boys described as both having model good looks, but one was blonde and one Chinese like him.

"I thought Blanca said you were a guy," came the blonde's first words.

"I thought he said you both were, too," Lin retorted, flipping his hair. He eyed the Chinese boy's outfit. "Yut-Lung? Ash?"

"Lin Xianming?" Ash asked.

"This is just a hobby." Lin's red skirt swished around his thighs as he pulled out a chair. "I look good in it."

"You do," Yut-Lung assured him.

"You could pull off a skirt too, if you wanted." Lin scoured Ash's appearance. "Your jaw and cheekbones are more masculine, but you probably could as well."

Yut-Lung smirked. "I have."

"So have I," Ash said.

"What?" Yut-Lung's mouth fell open.

"When we had to escape the mental hospital," Ash said. "I dressed as a nurse named Barbara—you know what, never mind." Yut-Lung was howling with laughter. "I can't even blame you for that. Oh, Lin, he tried to kill me multiple times."

"I tried to kill your friends," Yut-Lung corrected. "Including your boyfriend. And you told me you would definitely kill me."

Okay, Blanca had clearly given them enough of his backstory. But at least they didn't seem to be on any better ground. Lin crossed his arms over his chest. "I was hired to kill Banba. But they were behind in paying me, so I decided to protect him instead. And then it turned out he didn't exactly need my protection."

"So are you two dating?" asked Yut-Lung.

Lin narrowed his eyes. "No. Why does everyone assume that?" It wasn't like Banba was bad looking or anything—quite the opposite, with his fitness regime and constant baseball playing. But he knew Banba had been a womanizer, before giving it up several years ago, unable to trust. And Lin wasn't interested in relationships. If he wanted one, he could have one, but he'd only ever used flirtation to lure information out of people, or lure them to an alleyway so he could end them.

"Because you live together?"

Ash pushed Yut-Lung's shoulder.

"We trust each other," Lin said. _Mostly. I hope so._

_Don't tell me to leave._

Banba wasn't seeking to use him. That much he was certain of. And Lin—well, okay, he was freeloading more or less, but he wasn't using Banba in any way that actually mattered.

They weren't discussing the fact that they were all trafficked like meat. Lin relaxed. "So, tell me about this Blanca. I've heard he's a very good assassin, and I'm sure Banba's better."

"Probably in every way other than assassination skills," Yut-Lung scoffed. He adjusted the purple jade clasp around his ponytail. "We love Blanca, but he's a loser."

"Tell me more. I'll tell you about Banba too. He's a loser who knows every last detail of baseball."

Ash flinched. "I don't like baseball."

That flinch was familiar. Lin's muscles clenched as if he was going to mirror the action, but he'd taught himself long ago to pretend it wasn't real, to pretend he was fine, stay stiff. "Okay, fine. He also likes greasy, terrible-for-you ramen, and got himself stabbed a few times."

"Blanca got stuck in an air-vent trying to save Ash once," Yut-Lung said. "My boyfriend, Sing, told me."

"He did?" Ash's eyes lit up.

Okay, these kids weren't bad. Lin grinned.

As they talked, he felt something he hadn't felt since playing baseball with the Hakata Tonkotsu Ramens, and it was warm and light, glowing inside him, like the sun, coming out after a storm.

_I can still see, and breathe, here._

* * *

"I'll be right there." Kurapika slammed his phone into his pocket, stalking out of his class.

"You okay?" ventured Eiji's voice.

Kurapika spun. Since classes began, he'd made a point to sit with Ash, Yut-Lung, and Eiji in Chinese Literature. He liked them. They were definitely the kind of people Chrollo would like, from gangs and the mafia, and yet loving books. And then there was Eiji. Kurapika could relate to Eiji.

"Yeah," said Kurapika. "My friends down at the high school just called for some help." Or rather, Killua had, moaning that Gon had gotten in a fight with some other sophomores, and he'd gotten involved, and now he had a bruise and would Kurapika please bring him some makeup or something, anything, to cover it up and keep Illumi from noticing.

"That's awful," Eiji said when he heard. "Kids can be so mean."

"No kidding." Kurapika remembered kids mocking his cousin Pairo for his poor vision when he was growing up. Kurapika had beaten more than one of them up. Sometimes more than one at once.

"Yut-Lung's boyfriend goes to that same school," Eiji said, slinging his bag over his back. A frown settled on his jaw. "Sing's my friend, too. If we talk to him, he might be able to help your friends out."

 _Maybe you're not as soft as I thought._ Kurapika watched him. _You're loyal, aren't you?_ He reminded Kurapika of a quieter Leorio in some ways. Sweet and watching, observing, always willing to help a friend out. And Kurapika in that moment felt like he was scared of it, too, scared of that light, scared of that kind of care and determination to help, because it tended to shine on the parts of himself he kept hidden from everyone except Chrollo. Or tried to keep hidden, anyways.

_You want to be good for someone._

"Okay," Kurapika agreed. He was trying not to handle everything on his own anymore. Trying. It still felt scary, trying to rely on someone else.

He and Eiji went to the pharmacy to buy cover up, and then took the bus to the high school, where Kurapika texted Killua.

"Are they going to sneak out?" whispered Eiji.

Kurapika nodded. "Usually this is how I get Gon's forgotten homework to him."

Eiji actually laughed. "This is more what I thought life in America would be life. Instead of gang wars."

Kurapika watched him as they waited in a nearby alleyway, Kurapika clutching the crinkling plastic bag. "Do you wish it was like this since you got here?"

"No," replied Eiji. "I'm glad I met Ash. Without that, I don't know. I don't know if I'd still be in New York, or if I'd be somewhere else. There wasn't much back for me in Japan."

Kurapika nodded.

"Honestly, Ash likes to talk about how I saved him," said Eiji, jabbing the toe of his sneaker into a patch of browned grass sprouting up through cracks in the pavement. "In reality, he saved me just as much. I—I never felt useless. Even when I was really useless. In fights and things. Because he never saw me that way, you know?"

"Yeah," Kurapika said, a lump in his throat. "I know."

Eiji studied him. "Your eyes are turning red."

Kurapika shrugged. "I'm not sad this time." He sighed. "I don't have to prove myself to Chrollo. He knows the worst that I am capable of." Oh, what the hell, this boy had been hanging around a Chinese mafia boy and two gang members. "I wanted to kill him once. I tried to. The events I set in motion led to his friend's death."

"Yut-Lung did something similar to Ash," Eiji said. "With the friend thing. And to me, I suppose. But we still—became friends anyways."

"I guess in a world of murderers, you have no choice?" Kurapika prodded.

"I chose to be a part of it," Eiji said.

Kurapika drew in his breath. _Because he was worth it to you?_

_Am I worth it to Chrollo?_

_He's worth it to me… even knowing everything._

"Yo," said another voice. An Asian boy appeared, hands in the pockets of his ripped jeans. "Encouraging me to play hooky, Eiji? Yut-Lung's gonna flip."

"Kurapika," he introduced himself.

"Cool name. I'm Sing."

Kurapika checked his phone again, wondering where they were, just as he heard Killua call out to him. Gon followed, throwing his arms around Kurapika. Who gaped. "Your nose is broken!"

Gon shrugged. "Not a big deal."

"What the hell did you do?" yelped Sing.

"Jin Ling was being a bitch and made a homophobic comment so I decked him," said Killua. "And then his two friends tried to pull us apart and Gon punched SiZhui and then Jin Ling broke his nose."

"Jin Ling?" squawked Sing. "I know him! He's—" He stopped.

Eiji's eyebrows were almost at his hairline. Kurapika clenched his fists. _Why are people like this?_

"He made a comment about how he couldn't handle seeing another man kissing another man," Killua said.

"Compensating much?" mumbled Sing.

"Hey!" exclaimed Eiji.

"I'll talk to him," said Sing, eyes darkening. "And tell him to leave you two alone. He's a brat, but he's not a bastard."

Kurapika's eyes narrowed. He put his hands on his hips. "Were you kissing?"

Killua's face flushed bright red, a sharp contrast with his icy eyes. "We weren't making out."

"But were you kissing?" Kurapika demanded. His mind rushed through a list of topics he needed to discuss with Killua and Gon. Like the fact that they were fifteen and making out was all they should do, and condoms, and—

"Oh my God, do not go there!" shrieked Killua. "I see that look! We're fifteen!"

"Exactly!"

"Oh my God," said Sing, doubled over as he laughed. Eiji was giggling.

"What?" asked Gon. "Oh, you mean like health class? We have that, Kurapika. Calm down."

"That doesn't reassure me." Kurapika's health class had been very heteronormative.

"I'm done," said Killua, shaking his head.

Sing cackled. "Look, I _will_ talk to those kids. Tell Jin Ling to keep his mouth shut. Keep doing you." He turned to head back to class, Killua and Gon with him.

 _Doing… you?_ "Or not!" hollered Kurapika.

"That's not what I meant!"

Kurapika and Eiji both laughed as they watched them leave.

 _I guess it pays to have friends_.

* * *

"Lin's not bad," Ash remarked to Yut-Lung as they left the coffee shop. None of them had really discussed their pasts beyond just what Chinese foods were best. Which was how Ash wanted it. He wasn't sure how to treat Blanca's sudden attempts at forcing him into unconventional therapy.

Yut-Lung nodded. "Sing said he's hanging out with Eiji and Kurapika and some of Kurapika's friends? Outside of the library?"

"Okay."

"Hey Ash?" Yut-Lung ventured.

"Yeah?" He kicked up a pile of leaves. Car horns blasted in the distance.

"I thought I felt someone watching me and Sing the other night."

Ash frowned. Clouds stirred overhead, heavy gray thunderclouds brewing above the city. "Did you tell Blanca? Or—"

"No. I know Dino's gone, and my brothers too, and Lao tolerates me when I'm not making out with Sing." Yut-Lung sniffed.

 _But you don't think you're imagining things_.

"Blanca trusts your instincts," Ash said finally.

"Not as much as he trusts yours."

Ash huffed. "I doubt that." He brushed a blond strand out of his eyes. "I'll keep an eye out."

Yut-Lung nodded. "Thanks."

They found Eiji, Sing, and Kurapika sitting on the steps of the library, eating ice cream no matter how chilly the air was. Two other boys were with them, one with spiky white hair and the other with green-ish black hair. Sing was frowning over his shoulder, but when Ash caught his eye, he avoided making contact.

_Someone was watching you. You sense it, don't you?_

But if they were in immediate danger, Sing would have left. Ash glanced around.

He felt nothing.

_Could it be Chinatown?_

"Gon Freecss and Killua Zoldyck," Kurapika said. "Two of my best friends." His voice sounded hesitant when he said as much.

"You're that super cool gangster!" shrieked Gon, leaping to his feet.

Ash let out a laugh. Killua exchanged a small smile with Yut-Lung. Ash had heard of the Zoldyck family. They'd had dealings with Golzine. He wondered if, in another world where nothing changed, if he and Killua would have grown up competing.

"Killuaaaaa!" shrieked a voice. Killua whirled. Two girls ran towards him.

"My sister and my brother," Killua said. "Kalluto, and Alluka."

Kalluto was the boy, despite wearing a dress. Ash made a mental note to stop leaping to conclusions about gender. And both of them chattered, looking at Killua like he was some kind of god, and it reminded Ash of Skip, the way Skip's cheeks used to curl up when he grinned up at Ash. Gon, too.

_I didn't know what to do._

_I should have… does it matter?_

_I miss you, Skip._

He could feel Eiji's eyes on him as he withdrew, crossing his arms, slouching, looking every inch the hoodlum everyone thought he was.

"I wanted to be the person—no one was for me," Ash whispered that evening, when they retreated to their apartment. Ash had a text from Blanca unread on his phone. He didn't want to pick it up. "For Skip. And I still failed."

_What if I'm no better?_

Even if he wasn't exploiting kids in the same way. The alleyways, the rival gangs, the pleas—" _save me, Ash!"_ —his footsteps, walking away.

Eiji knew. Ash looked into his eyes. _Am I burdening you?_

_You never asked for this._

_Neither did I._

Eiji's hand traced the scar Lao had left in his abdomen, the wound that almost took him from Eiji. He didn't even need to see it under Ash's shirt. He knew where it was.

And Ash lifted his arms, tugging his shirt over his head. Eiji's lips hovered apart. "Ash?"

There was the scar from his fight with Arthur, the scar he never wanted Eiji to see, just over his heart. There was the scar on his side from where he was shot after Eiji was shot, the wound Blanca had stitched up. Shiny stretched maroon skin.

Eiji's fingertips traced the scars. He pulled off his own shirt, and Ash saw it. The scar he was afraid of seeing, under his heart. From the bullet wounds.

"Is it ugly?" Eiji managed as Ash's gaze darted away.

"N-no," Ash stammered. He forced his eyes to stay locked on it. It wasn't ugly. It was part of Eiji.

Without thinking, he leaned forward. His lips brushed the scar. Eiji inhaled. And then, as Ash traced his lips up Eiji's chest, to his collarbone, nestled in the nape of his neck, he felt Eiji harden and pulled back.

Eiji's face flushed. His brow pinched, and his mouth opened. "I'm—I'm sorry, I—"

"No," Ash said, pushing his hair back. He blew out his breath. "Don't be. Boners happen."

Eiji snorted.

_Am I broken to you, Eiji?_

He knew the answer.

Eiji didn't care. Whether he was or wasn't. It wasn't relevant. He just saw Ash, and that person was Ash, broken or whole, breathing, in his arms.

He thought of Lin, moving to New York to escape trafficking in China and Japan. He thought of himself, visiting Japan with Eiji someday.

 _There's no magic place, but I like it here with you_. Ash shifted Eiji's hand to his own body. "Don't be ashamed."

Eiji met his eyes.

"I trust you."

They started without plans, or expectations. A boy holding another's gun, with permission. Kisses, one leading the way, the other catching on and taking risks too, lips exploring. Arms around each other, teaching each other, hands plastering against each other's scars, sweating and panting not from nightmares but from dreams, They moved along, together, both of them checking, one slowing, the other catching up, then the last layers peeling away, bodies together, looking for each other, and they were here, holding each other, that promise again, forever.


	4. Close to the Bone

"They're cool enough," Lin said to Banba when he asked how it went with Ash and Yut-Lung. "Ash hates baseball, though." He couldn't resist the little dig.

"What?" yelped Banba, dropping onto the couch next to Lin.

Maybe if they were still here later in the year, he'd get Banba tickets to see a game in an American stadium. Or not. Banba'd probably rather be playing. Lin rested his chin on his arm.

"So are you gonna see them again?"

"What does it matter to you?" Lin demanded. Shit. He hadn't meant to sound so hostile. "Yeah, probably."

Banba raised his hands. "Just wanna make sure you're doin' all right here."

 _Or do you just want to make sure you're all right_? Lin hated how his mind worked sometimes. He hated how he couldn't understand this part of Banba. How did things not track back to him being concerned about himself? Didn't they always?

No, Banba wasn't Feilang. He'd been through that. He could trust Banba. Lin blew out his breath. "I'm okay."

Banba's hand landed on his shoulder. His brow furrowed.

"Trust me," Lin said. "I'll be okay."

He used to think he'd be able to walk away from all of it, run away with Feilang, and then once that bled away, that he'd be able to work his debt off and return to Qaomei, and it would all be over. He wouldn't have to think about it anymore, because he'd have someone with him.

Well, he had someone with him, and memories were still closing around his throat.

"You don't have to see them again," Banba said, voice soft. "If it makes you think of things you'd rather not, don't. I want you to be happy, Lin."

He was serious. Of course. His gaze scrutinized Lin's face. Lin relaxed.  _I do trust you_. "Banbaka," he teased, shoving him away. He held up the remote. "No baseball tonight in honor of Ash. Hallmark channel instead."

Banba moaned. "Those films're so sappy!"

"I like happy endings, dipshit!" Lin turned on the TV. And sappy or not, Banba watched with him.

If only life had fairy tale endings, a kiss set to the the flames of a scarlet and golden sunset, the background melting away and only focusing on a lover's face, a lover who stayed with you no matter what. Lin sighed.

He texted Ash and Yut-Lung the next week, because he wanted Banba to be happy more so than he actually wanted to see them again even if they did seem cool.  _Want to meet up for lunch?_ He was craving Chinese food again and didn't feel like cooking.

_I guess I am a user, too._

Maybe if he ate enough and with enough spice, it'd burn away the emptiness churning inside him.

Ash and Yut-Lung met him in Chinatown, Ash introducing Lin to his boyfriend, Eiji Okumura.

"You should meet Banba," said Lin in Japanese. The language felt familiar, welcoming, as it rolled off his tongue. "I call him Banbaka."

Eiji laughed.

They'd also brought another college friend with them, Kurapika. He seemed as stiff and unfriendly as Lin usually felt. He liked Kurapika almost instantly.  _Maybe I can be friends with them._

"Wanna go to this place called Chang Dai?" asked Lin. "I dragged Banba there last week. It's really good."

Ash, Eiji, and Yut-Lung all stiffened.

"What?" asked Lin. "Did you get food poisoning there or something?"

"No," said Eiji. "I just—"

"My best friend's sister owns that place," said Ash. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and Lin realized a few faces were looking at them, almost recognizing them. He'd thought it was Yut-Lung they were watching, but he was starting to realize the gazes lingered on Ash even more, and not one of them was friendly. "She's great."

"Your best friend there too?" Lin asked.

"No. He's dead." Ash drew in his breath.

"Shit," said Kurapika. "Sorry, Ash. I lost—my best friend growing up, Pairo—when my parents died too. A few years ago. What was his name?"

"Shorter," Eiji said, studying his tennis shoes. "Shorter Wong."

"Weird name," said Lin. "We don't have to go there."

"No," said Ash. "We should. Nadia's been trying to call me anyways."

"Does seeing her remind you of him?" Kurapika asked. "It's hard. I'd always feel so selfish, cutting myself off from people, but it was the only way I could... make it."

"That's not it." Ash let out a crackling laugh. He stopped. They all halted on the sidewalk.

"Huh?"

"I killed him." He met Lin's eyes, then Kurapika's. Eiji's hand tightened on Ash's shoulder. "We met in juvie. I—he'd been drugged—he asked me to—set him free." Shame crippled his face.

Lin flinched. Because he knew that look.

_Come at me._

_Hate me._

_Tell me how disgusting I am. Tell me I don't deserve this normal life._

_I can't be your friend because I can't be a friend, can I? Can't I? Can I?_

Instead of wanting a fairy tale ending, a time when he could breathe and live, Ash was trying to accept that he could have any kind of path forward at all.

"It's my fault too," Yut-Lung interjected. "More so than yours, Ash. I helped capture Shorter, and Dino Golzine—you were trapped in his execution room; it wasn't like that, it wasn't your fault, it was—"

Lin saw red hair in his mind, a cage, felt the knife in his hand sinking into an eye, the agony throbbing in his side.

"Fuck," said Ash, stepping back. Eiji tensed.

The words bubbled inside him, but someone else had already said them. Surely they didn't know. Banba would never, ever have told. No, it was up to him. "I killed my best friend, too."

"Huh?" Everyone turned to him. Yut-Lung had tears filling his purple eyes.

"Feilang," said Lin, and hearing his name aloud cut at him.

He hadn't said it since Feilang died. "We were roommates in the—training center for us. Kids being trained to be assassins. He told me we'd travel the world together when we graduated. He carried me on his back. And then in the end, they told us our final test was to fight our roommate to the death behind bars that looked like a cage. I wanted to break the lock. I was going to. And then he stabbed me in the back and told me he'd known ahead of time and only ever planned to kill me. He'd known. And I killed him." Okay, it wasn't that simple. Feilang had survived that death, by some cruel miracle, and been sold to a pedophile, and come seeking Lin later on, determined to kill Banba and everyone else. And then Lin had truly killed him.

He kept his hands still as he told them, focused on the light breeze, not the bitterness of the words, the feel of a phantom knife in his hands.

"That was—pretty similar to what happened with Shorter," Eiji whispered. "He wasn't in his—there was no way to save him after what they'd given him. It wasn't Ash's fault."

"You know, I tried to kill Chrollo, the guy I'm dating," Kurapika said. "Once. Before we started dating. Not after."

Everyone gaped at him. A strand of Lin's blond hair flapped into his eye, stinging. He pulled it out. He inhaled. The air smelled of smoke.

"Well," Ash said, wiping his nose. "Eiji really  _is_  the only pure one here."

"I am not!" Eiji's face burned red.

"No kidding," Yut-Lung said, blinking back tears. "I tried to goad Eiji into killing me once, and he refused."

_It really is everywhere._

_But we really are everywhere, too. Still going on, dragging ourselves forward._

* * *

"How on earth did you two wind up dating, then?" Lin demanded, pushing his bowl of soup away from him.

Kurapika shrugged. "We found out there was more to us than what we'd done, and we even liked what we found." And in liking Chrollo, he felt hope. He had a hand to reach out to during the night and knew the fingers would interlace with his. And he knew Chrollo wouldn't let him get away with shit, but call him on it. "He makes me a better person."

Yut-Lung nodded.

Letting down his guard here felt so strange. Kurapika could almost still feel the chains wrapping around his wrists, chains of guilt and crimes and the things he never thought he'd sink to. And yet they weren't there anymore. Chrollo unlocked them, and now these other boys sitting at this table were sharing the chain marks on their wrists too, and they were all ashamed and yet none of them were hiding it, blocking the harsh words they slung at themselves by telling them the same thing Chrollo always told him:  _you're not alone._

Even with his family dead.

_Not alone._

"So," Kurapika said, picking up a water chestnut with his chopsticks and crunching into it. "Lin. It seems kinda similar to what you were saying about you and Banba and your baseball team of assassins. Like you found a way to move past your sister's death once you got revenge through others."  _Through finding a family there_.

Lin shrugged. "I guess so."

"Same here," Yut-Lung said quietly. "Revenge on my brothers for killing my mother was the only thing that kept me going for—so long. But when I had nothing else and I still had a lot of—it didn't make the pain go away. So I took it out on Ash and Eiji, and—Sing called me out on it." He smiled. "After we slapped each other. And he told me he'd never forgive me, but he'd still help me."

"Seems like he's forgiven you," Ash remarked, slurping his soda. Eiji leaned against his shoulder.

"Yeah," Yut-Lung admitted.

"It didn't make me feel any better, either," Lin said. "Killing the guy who killed Qaomei—I was glad, but—it didn't last. Feilang came back and by the time I killed him, I felt nothing compared to what I'd felt the first time."

"The first time I killed someone—my baseball coach who—hurt me," Ash choked out. "I felt nothing, and that terrified me most. That I could kill someone and not feel something."

Lin turned towards him, resting his fist on his chin. "I'm sorry."

"I'm glad my brothers are dead," Yut-Lung admitted.

Kurapika stared at the glossy wood of the table. He could see a shadow of himself reflected on it, no eyes, light hair, a blurred face.  _Would I have been glad if I'd killed Chrollo?_

_I think I would have been more empty._

_In the end, for me at least, I was no different._

_He was the worst of me, and is the best of me._

He watched the four boys around him.  _How do you forgive yourself for these kinds of things?_

"Banba's got a similar story," Lin said, tossing his hair. "But it's not mine to tell. But we could relate."

_That's how. By not being alone._

Kurapika lifted his eyes. "So what is your relationship with Banba exactly?"

"Banbaka?" scorned Lin, turning his glass of water around and around in his hand. "We're roommates. And friends. And like I've said, once I was assigned to kill him and decided to protect him instead."

"You realize that's the start to like, every spy thriller romantic comedy," Yut-Lung said.

Kurapika's eyebrows shot up. Yut-Lung clearly had no fear.

"The fuck?" yelped Lin.

"He isn't wrong," Eiji teased.

Lin huffed. "Well, it's not like that. Banba used to be a womanizer. Until the girl he was in love with betrayed him 'cause she was hired to kill him. They didn't stick together. Life's not a romantic drama."

"Life's a fanfiction," joked Yut-Lung.

"He doesn't like guys."

"Sounds like he doesn't like girls anymore, either," Yut-Lung countered.

"But you two stuck together, even moving across the world," Kurapika pointed out.

Lin scowled. "I wouldn't do that to him!"

"Do what to him?" Eiji inquired. "Like him?"

"You moved halfway around the world to be with him," Ash said.

Lin scowled at them, offended as if they were insulting Banba. "He can't trust people like that!"

"Couldn't you not trust roommates after Feilang?" countered Yut-Lung.

Lin's face was beet-red. "You have got to be kidding me! What if I'm not gay?"

"Are you not?" asked Eiji as Kurapika, Yut-Lung, and Ash all eyed him up and down and arched their eyebrows.

"I don't know, because I've never dated anyone! Fake-dated, to kill them later or get info for killing someone, sure, but—" Lin stopped. "Gay or not, I don't want to live without him, and that's what matters, right?"

"Doesn't sound like there's anything fake about you and Banba's friendship," observed Ash.

"I wouldn't do that to him," Lin repeated, and Kurapika understood instantly.

_It's not that you wouldn't. Or that you couldn't._

_It's not him at all._

_It's you. You don't want him to have to experience anything that reminds him of the trauma he went through, of his pain. So you'll just support him quietly._

_What if that's not what he needs?_

Every morning when Kurapika woke up, he knew what Chrollo had done, and he knew what Kurapika had done. And yet when he looked at Chrollo, he didn't see his parents or Pairo, hear their voices accusing him of betraying him. He just heard Chrollo, and when he thought of Pairo nowadays, he thought of him laughing.

It'd been so long since he'd heard that laugh.

He wondered if Lin would ever take that risk. If that's what he wanted.

It had gotten pretty dire before he and Chrollo had. He hoped Lin and Banba figured it out before it got to that point.

Nadia came over to wipe down their table, and she grinned at them, giving Ash a quick hug.

_She doesn't see her brother, dead._

_She sees you, and him alive._

But ghosts weren't easy to let go, not because ghosts were the ones holding on, but because the living were, and this Kurapika knew all too well.

* * *

Yut-Lung pushed open the doors to his house. His servants hurried over to him, and he waved his hands. Even though his arms were laden with bags from shopping, he didn't need their help.

Lin Xianming was a fun shopping partner, as it turned out. Better than Sing when it came to advice, though Yut-Lung still texted Sing his pictures and Sing exclaimed about how good he looked in all of them.

He tossed his bags down on his bed and hung them up in his closet. Sing would be over for dinner. Sing had said he noticed a strange feeling earlier too, but Ash and Eiji hadn't.

 _No one gets to hurt Sing,_  Yut-Lung vowed. _I have to figure this out._  And with new friends too... he couldn't risk anyone. Could it be an enemy from Chinatown, someone he or his brothers had pissed off? Probably. He slapped his forehead.

 _Hey, I said I'd help you,_  Sing added.  _We'll figure it out._

Yut-Lung gulped. He hoped so.

Sing also added that something else happened with those brats they met the other week for dinner, the ones who were related to Professor Lan. Kurapika had told him about the first incident. Yut-Lung rolled his eyes at the thought of another one. Cocky brats.

He remembered how Sing had said he and Jin Ling were the same. Yut-Lung studied his reflection in the mirror. Did the shirt fit right at his waist?  _We're not anymore, right?_

 _If that's the case, then Jin Ling can grow too. He doesn't have to be this insufferable_. And he already had good friends in SiZhui and JingYi. Hell, he was already ahead of where Yut-Lung had been.

Maybe he could text the kid, if Sing had his number, offer to give him some advice. Like Kurapika and Lin were doing with them. Yut-Lung decided the shirt sufficed and left it on, snipping off the tag.

"Yut-Lung Sir?" asked his servant from the doorway.

"Yes?" Yut-Lung combed his hair back.

"Blanca is here to see you."

"Blanca is?" He hadn't been expecting him. Yut-Lung frowned. "Send him up."

Blanca appeared a few moments later, quiet as always. Yut-Lung couldn't so much as hear a footstep. He'd been trained much the same. Assassins didn't make noise.

Assassins didn't exist.

_We didn't deserve to._

"Why hello," Yut-Lung greeted him, gesturing for tea. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" He couldn't keep the bitter taste from lunch surging up his throat out of his mouth.  _Why don't you come by more often?_

He had no right to ask, but he wanted.

"I got lunch with Ash and Eiji and Kurapika," Yut-Lung continued. "And that Lin guy you suggested we talk to. Then we went shopping. Well, Lin and I did. He's cool."

Blanca smiled as he took a seat. "I'm glad."

 _See? You did something good._  He wanted to rub Blanca's face in that. He wanted Blanca to feel like he was succeeding, like he was going good here, so he would stay.

 _I don't want you to leave again_.

_I'm scared of that._

"I talked to Ash," Blanca said as he accepted a cup of jasmine tea. Yut-Lung sat across from him, raising the tea to his lips. It was too hot, and stung.

"So he already told you or—"

"No, no," Blanca hurried to say. His gaze leveled with Yut-Lung. "He told me you've been feeling like someone was watching you."

 _That tattletale!_ Yut-Lung scowled. "It's nothing."

"If you mentioned it to Ash, I doubt you think it's nothing."

Yut-Lung set the teacup down on the small carved table between them. He arranged the cup so that it covered the face of the dragon that was the Lee clan's symbol. He didn't want it looking at him. In this house he already could still feel Hua-Lung and his other brothers' eyes following him everywhere. "Sing's also been feeling it. It's probably someone I pissed off. Maybe my brothers. It's... we'll work it out."

"With all due respect, you can't fight something you can't see or hear."

 _I don't even know where to begin_. He bowed his head. "We'll figure it out."

"I was—"

"Are you offering to what, help? By being my bodyguard again?" Yut-Lung demanded.

"Is that what you want?"

_Yes._

_No._

When Blanca left, he hadn't wanted him to leave. He'd told him not to, but Blanca said he had to. He promised him. " _Someone will love you, someday."_  And he'd sent Sing to him.

He wanted Blanca to stay in New York. But did he want him as his bodyguard again? Yut-Lung closed his eyes. "I wouldn't be able to go to class like a normal student, then."

 _I like trying for this kind of life. I like having friends, going to restaurants together, shopping_. How could he reach out to Jin Ling if that were the case? The kid wouldn't be interested in Blanca. He was an uppity little prick.

"I'll be okay," Yut-Lung said.

"I—"

"You haven't been over in weeks before this," Yut-Lung interrupted, frustration snapping. "What, do I have to be in danger for you to reach out? But you'll go to Ash—"  _Sing and I need you!_

"We were just texting."

"Either way! You send people to do your work for you. Sing, now Lin Xianming, and they're both great and I love them but—" Yut-Lung felt tears burning, beading in the back of his eyes. "Can't you come? If you care? Can't you come before things are—before there's some kind of threat?"

Blanca swallowed. "I've been busy, and involved in that class—Chrollo Lucilfer, that boyfriend of your friend, is working on some kind of—"

"I really don't care. You don't seem to be learning much from that class." Yut-Lung sniffed.

Blanca frowned. He rubbed the top of his scalp. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Huh?" Yut-Lung gaped at him.

"You signed me up to help Max Lobo with his investig—"

 _What?_ "No," Yut-Lung eked out. "No, we didn't."

"Then—"

" _Neither Ash nor I ever saw you as a bodyguard or an assassin!"_ Yut-Lung shouted.

_We always wanted._

_We always loved you._

_You were the first adult who cared about Ash since his brother went away, and the first since my mother died._

_You know. You have to know. Why are you blinding yourself to it? Why do you want to play the fool? Why do you want to be ignorant?_

Because it was easier, wasn't it? It was easier for Yut-Lung to believe he hated Eiji, instead of hating himself. It was easier to believe he wanted Ash to kill him than be his friend. It was easier to think Sing hated him instead of wishing he was better than he was acting.

"I think you should go," Yut-Lung said, standing. And then he left the room, too.

His tea, by now, would be cold.

* * *

Wei WuXian listened to JingYi, SiZhui, and Jin Ling argue over some kind of project they were working on at school. He slouched over the counter, WangJi behind him.

His phone lit up.  _Is Jin Ling at your place?_

Jiang Cheng. Wei WuXian frowned. "Jin Ling, did you not tell your uncle where you were?"

"You're my uncle too," Jin Ling sassed, sprawled on the carpet.

"Don't talk to your uncle like that," WangJi said automatically. SiZhui elbowed Jin Ling.

 _Yes_ , Wei WuXian texted back.  _Sorry_.

_I'm sending Trouble to you then, since JL clearly would rather you deal with it._

Wei WuXian's brow furrowed. He showed the text to his husband. "What does he mean?"

"He thinks Jin Ling likes you more," WangJi suggested softly. "Instead of realizing that the boy uses his tongue to cut apart everyone he meets and see who's left standing."

Wei WuXian blinked. The words landed with a kick in his sternum. If only Jiang Cheng would look in a mirror sometime, he might realize with Jin Ling was the way he was. "True, but I meant, what does he mean by 'Trouble?'"

WangJi shrugged.

Their doorbell chimed. Wei WuXian straightened. "Guess we won't have to wait long to find out."

WangJi rested his forehead on his palm. The three teenagers barely glanced up from their work.

He opened the door to find a man with long black hair and a terrible outfit standing next to a man who looked like Pennywise escaped from a circus. Wei WuXian's eyebrows shot up. "Can I help you?" Snorts and snickers bubbled out of him. He couldn't smother them. This was just too good.

"Is this where Jin Ling, Lan SiZhui, and Lan JingYi's parents live?" demanded the black-haired man. His eyes were huge, like voids, and they were steaming with fury.

The trio sat up in the living room. Jin Ling inched backwards. SiZhui caught his arm. WangJi marched out of the kitchen, folding his arms over his chest and blocking the escape to the loft. JingYi gulped.

"Jin Ling's legal guardian is my brother, but I presume he sent you here," said Wei WuXian. "Since he just texted me."

The redhead cursed. "See, I told you Jiang Cheng was home."

What was Jiang Cheng doing, hiding from these two? Where would he even know them from unless— _oh._ The parenting class, maybe? Wei WuXian stepped back to let them in. "Wei WuXian. This is my husband, Lan WangJi."

"Illumi Zoldyck. This is my husband, Hisoka Morow." Illumi scowled at the three boys. Jin Ling's face paled at the mention of the name 'Zoldyck.' "And I'm here because my little brother Killua is in their class, and I've been hearing that they've been getting into fistfights, and that Jin Ling in particular called Killua a—homophobic term, and—"

"That was once, and he asked for it!" yelped Jin Ling.

 _Oh, no you don't._ Wei WuXian's gaze searched for help, but his husband was already on stepped forward, grabbing Jin Ling's shoulders and holding him in place.

"I'm all very confused," Illumi stated. "Given, well, you."

"Actually it explains it perfectly," Wei WuXian replied. "My nephew particularly enjoys pretending he doesn't like me." Actually Jin Ling really didn't like him for most of his life, considering everyone thought he'd killed Jin Ling's parents. But he hadn't. And he knew Jin Ling loved him nowadays. He just would never act like it.

"Excuse me?" snapped Jin Ling.

Hisoka the clown cackled.

"Who is this freak?" asked Jin Ling. SiZhui stepped on his toes.

"My sincere apologies," said Wei WuXian. "It won't happen again."

"Freak's a compliment," Hisoka answered with a wink. "Who wants to be normal? It's the surest way to guarantee that no one will ever remember you."

"All of you, apologize," WangJi said.

SiZhui and JingYi chimed in with theirs immediately. Jin Ling shrunk back.

"They're waiting," WangJi prompted, staring down at his nephew by marriage.

"Sorry," whispered Jin Ling.

"Very well," said Illumi. "I will make sure Killua and Gon apologize for attacking first tomorrow."

"If provoked, they may not need to," Wei WuXian said. "But, who won the fight?"

Hisoka laughed. "I like you, Former Fugitive."

WangJi scowled at his husband.

"Gon did," mumbled JingYi. "Even with a broken nose."

"Fucking yes," said Hisoka. "Proud of that kid—"

"Could you not swear in front of—"

"He's impossible to control," Illumi stated. "So I don't bother."

"I relate," said WangJi. A small smile graced his lips.

"Huh? You do?" Wei WuXian's eyes widened. "With whom?"

Hisoka snickered. WangJi frowned.

"Me?" shrieked Wei WuXian. "What's that supposed to—"

"Okay, okay," Illumi cut in. "Here is my number." He handed Wei WuXian a business card. "If you have any problems, feel free to contact me." He curled his fists. "I don't think this counts as controlling."

 _Huh_? Illumi was almost asking Hisoka if he was controlling... someone? Something? What on earth did he mean?

"Defending your brother, how horrible," mocked Hisoka. "It's a good thing, Illumi. Not controlling."

Illumi looked lost. Wei WuXian frowned. Maybe they should get together sometime. Hisoka seemed like fun embodied in a person, and Illumi seemed like a sour WangJi.

"You're not my guardian," Jin Ling snapped the moment the door closed behind them. "My uncle will—"

"Your uncle sent them to us by pretending not to be home," Wei WuXian retorted.

The boy's face bloomed scarlet. "He's not that much of a coward."

He held up his phone so Jin Ling would know he wasn't lying. "You're right; he's not a coward. He just didn't feel like handling the fact that you hate him."

"What?" yelped Jin Ling. WangJi moaned. "I do not hate him!"

"Then act like it," Wei WuXian informed him, looking down at his nephew. His heart pounded. "You're hurting him, Jin Ling. You never stick around his place, you backtalk him and trash-talk him behind his back, you—"

"You don't know half of it!" Jin Ling screamed at him, face red, fists curling. "Everything I do, I do to—you of all people should know how he is! He's impossible to please!"

"And he loves you!" Wei WuXian yelled back.

" _How am I supposed to know that?"_  Jin Ling shouted. He grabbed his bookbag. "Fine! I'll go back to his place, since you clearly don't want me here anyways!"

"That's not—"

"Shut up!" Jin Ling slammed the door behind him. Wei WuXian cursed and chased after him, watching until the kid stomped into Jiang Cheng's apartment.

_Jin Ling…_

_Jin Ling, it's not so simple._

_Jin Ling, Jin Ling, your uncle's afraid of himself. He thinks he's not enough for you. He's afraid of you, that you're me._

_It's not fair to you, is it? But you can't say horrible things to people. You're not some kind of homophobic brat; I know you're not, so why are you acting like it? It's not funny and it's not flimsy; we're people who matter!_

Wei WuXian shut the door to the apartment, leaning back against it and trying to suck in air. His throat felt swollen, angry, hot, like all his anger was caked onto the flesh.


	5. Lost Ones

"Does it get better?" Ash asked Kurapika, handing him a beer. Kurapika winced, studying the liquor. He wasn't particularly good at holding his alcohol. From the looks of things, neither was Eiji, who'd taken one sip and his face bled red.

"What?" Kurapika asked.

"Missing people." Ash took a swig. His condo with Eiji was cozy. Modern art with colorful squares decorated the walls. Two couches, plush and blue, were crammed inside a living area. A bedroom was off to the side.

Kurapika stared at the brown liquid swirling around his bottle. "It depends what you mean."

Ash sighed. "I always thought that focusing on other things would distract me. And it did. But now Dino's dead and Banana Fish is gone and—my brother, Shorter, Skip, Arthur, everyone—they're still dead. And Dino being dead is kind of—maybe it gives them some peace. But I'd never know."

And Kurapika saw how Ash looked at him then, eyes green and pleading, and Eiji, eyes the hue of chocolate and lips trembling, and he heard Gon's voice in his head.

_My father missed our Christmas get-together again._

_Alluka had a nightmare about my mom and dad taking me away again,_ Killua said.

And Kurapika visited two graves constantly, finding flowers on them every time, flowers he knew his boyfriend laid down, because Chrollo's friend Uvogin whose death Kurapika was indirectly responsible for had bouquets of white flowers on his grave at all times, too.

_I wanted to go with you._

"Do you think it should have been you instead?" Kurapika asked.

"All the time," Ash answered.

Eiji nodded. "I always wonder why Golzine drugged Shorter and made him try to kill me, instead of me trying to kill Shorter—maybe because I was weaker. Physically."

"It wasn't your fault," Kurapika whispered. "You don't have to apologize for being alive." He'd spent so much time chasing death, thinking it would somehow earn him the right to be alive.

"That's pretty much how I've been living," Ash mumbled, slamming the beer down on the side table. He leaned back, his head falling in Eiji's lap. Eiji ran his fingers through Ash's hair. "And now I don't know what to do."

"Once you let go of that hatred," Kurapika said. "It's hard."

"Meh, wasn't hatred for me. More like just—a need to be free, and now I am, and I don't know if that's any better."

"Are you?" asked Kurapika, his heart thumping. "You can be, but—you're always going to miss them." His voice cracked. "No matter what, no matter how old you get, there will—you'll miss them. Because they mattered."

Pairo saved his life. His mother wiped his tears. His father ruffled Kurapika's hair, taught him to read. Pairo forgave him. Pairo believed in him and his determination to go to college, making him promise to tutor him. Pairo was his friend.

They were part of him, molding and shaping him, and no matter what he became, their contribution couldn't be erased.  _And I'm grateful I get to miss you._ His fingers traced his eye sockets.

"I understand," Eiji said softly.

They weren't balls and chains to be dragged around. They were surgeons, sewing wings onto their backs, stinging, yet giving you something you didn't have before.

"They can set you free, too." Kurapika swallowed. "It's hard, though. And it's okay for it to be hard."

Some days were easier than others. And through it all, having someone with him helped. Friends in Killua and Gon, Leorio and Melody. And Chrollo. "They'd be happy you're alive, and happy with Eiji."

Ash snorted. "Shorter'd be teasing the fuck out of us."

"Skip would be happy, I think," Eiji whispered.

"Pairo would be planning my wedding to Chrollo," Kurapika commented. Pairo would have been the last person to judge Chrollo on his past, too.

_I still aim to be like you in some ways, Pairo. But you always liked me as me._

As he headed back to the house he and Chrollo shared, he thought about how next time he went to the cemetery, he wanted to go with Chrollo. Not because he wanted to lacerate himself, bleed out his regret in Chrollo's sight, hope that his blood would atone, but because he wanted Chrollo to see that part of him, and he wanted to see that part of Chrollo.

"Hey, you're home," Chrollo called, feeding Indoor Fish in their glass tanks in the living room. "I made a lot of progress with that story today, and—"

Kurapika launched himself at Chrollo, pressing his lips against him and pushing Chrollo back into the wall. His palms pressed Chrollo's palms, fingers running along his boyfriend's.

"What brought this on?" Chrollo rasped. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Nothing," Kurapika managed. "I just—love you."  _And I feel lucky to do so._

_Like with Pairo, or my parents, or Ash and Eiji and Lin and Yut-Lung, Leorio Gon and Killua, Melody, Oito._

_It's kind of a miracle that I get to know you, love you._

_Thank you._

Chrollo heaved him up onto the kitchen table, hands grasping Kurapika's hips. His mouth delved down, like he craved more and more of Kurapika, teeth nipping at the inside of his lips. Kurapika's thumbs reached up, tracing Chrollo's forehead tattoo.

He could let Chrollo carry him. Up the stairs. Into their bedroom. Lay him down.

_I never needed to prove myself to you, because you never thought I was weak._

_The only part of me you thought was weak was my care for my friends. And you thought that because you, too, cared for your friends. And you were afraid of it._

_And you're not afraid anymore._

_Did I show you that?_ Kurapika's hands traced Chrollo's face, remembering the days of their uncomfortable working together, the day they first kissed, the things neither of them remembered and the things they both did. He arched his back as Chrollo pushed in, panting, hands lacing again.

_I'm not afraid of you._

Chrollo's lips and teeth moved to his neck, hot and sucking, and Kurapika could let himself cry out, eyes red and glowing, fully himself. And he knew, as he always did, what Chrollo would say when his eyes turned scarlet. " _Beautiful_."

But not because he was an object. Because Chrollo every time looked like it was new, like he could discover more about Kurapika, and it wasn't that he had no shame over his past, but it was that he trusted Kurapika enough to call him that, and know Kurapika knew what he meant.

_I love you._

_You matter to me._

_And in many ways, you make me better._

And maybe Kurapika, too, trusted him that this was true, that he mattered, that he could do good just by living.

* * *

The conversation from lunch echoed in Lin's mind as he shoveled soup down his throat.

"What?" Banba questioned, catching him staring.

"Nothing!" Lin glared down at his heels.  _I wouldn't do that to him. I wouldn't even want to!_ His stomach ached, but he still had more soup to finish.

"Are you done?" questioned Banba.

"No," Lin retorted. "I have to finish." He never wasted food. No matter what. Not since growing up when he didn't know what would fill his stomach next, and he gave half his food to Qaomei anyways.

"You don't have to if you're full."

Lin stuck his tongue out at Banba, slamming his spoon down into the bowl. Banba's hands flew up. "Whoa, whoa, okay."

Lin gritted his teeth. Now Banbaka would think he was mad at him. And he wasn't. His ire burned at himself. Because he was fucking stupid for letting what those bratty kids said infiltrate his mind and twist things. He had no feelings for Banba beyond convenient roommate. Family, he supposed.

_He's not Feilang._

_I know that._

_Don't I?_

And if he didn't, he couldn't blame Banba for it, but himself.

Lin finished cramming the soup down his throat, feeling heavy and grumpy. His limbs throbbed, joints feeling as if someone had rubbed sandpaper around the bones of each of them. He turned on the Hallmark channel again. He only made it halfway through the film before falling asleep.

Lin rolled over. His throat burned. He pushed the blanket—where did he get a blanket? And why was the TV off?—to the floor. He staggered to the bathroom, kicking off his heels. Lin rubbed his temples, half expecting there to be an elastic around the bone, trapping what felt like cotton balls around his brain.

The light switched on behind him. Lin swore.

"You okay?" Banba regarded him with a serious expression.

"Didn't mean to fall asleep." His phone told him it was two in the morning. Lin blew his breath out.

"You don't look okay."

"Can you—" Lin stopped, the words hurting his throat.

Banba's hand went to his forehead before he could dig through the cotton and find a proper insult to hurl out. "You have a fever."

"No shit," Lin managed, and Banba's lips curled into a laugh. "I'll be fine. I'm used to working through fevers." They didn't get off days in the training academy. Those were the days Feilang would carry him on his back, all the while planning to kill Lin. And the days Lin would carry Feilang on his back, when Feilang was sick.

"Come on." Banba grasped his arm, pulling him out of the bathroom.

"Where are you—"

"You're not sleepin' on the couch if you're sick, Lin."

"Where will you sleep, then?" Lin demanded.

"The couch." Banba pulled him into the bedroom.

"No," Lin said. "Beds aren't—comfortable. Not used to them…"

"I don't think it'll matter tonight, and I got a firm mattress anyways in case ya ever changed your mind." Banba shrugged. He helped Lin lie down. He felt too tired to argue, and just wanted to concentrate on not shaking every single brain cell out of his body. "You're not there anymore anyways. Cold?" Banba asked, noticing the shakes.

"Don't know," Lin managed.  _I'm still there._

_Help me._

"Lin-chan—"

"Not my name," Lin cut in, burying his face in the pillow. It smelled on Banba. Even here, in this country. "Xianming."

"Then you're gonna have to call me Zenji."

A smile crept across Lin's face as he lay down. "Banbaka."

Banba put a glass of water down on the nightstand, and Lin didn't remember anything else.

He dreamed of those days running and running and running. The ones who fell behind were taken away. Feilang dragged him forward, and this time when he pulled Lin onto his back, he impaled Lin so that he would bleed out, hanging from his back, unable to kick his way off, losing strength and consciousness and leaving a bloody trail no one noticed as Feilang carried him along with him, in a circular track that went around and around and around, with no end.

A hand landed on his shoulder, wrenching him free. Sweat poured down his face. Lights scoured his eyes. Lin gasped. His throat felt raw.

"You were screamin'," Banba said, peering down at him.

Right. Banba's room. The fever. Judging by the fact that he still felt like he'd run for kilometers, limbs swollen and pounding, he wasn't any better. Lin crumpled his face.

"Was it about the academy?" Banba asked, plucking a strand of Lin's hair off his cheek. It was stuck there with sweat.  _Ew_.

Lin closed his eyes instead of answering.  _Still there._

_I'm always dragging it around with me._

"Drink water," Banba ordered, his voice serious. His Nawaka Samurai voice.

"Why?" complained Lin, cracking his eyes open. He reached for the glass anyways. He knew why he had to.

 _How much do we know about each other? You still call me Lin-chan, and I call you Banbaka_.

"You know Xianming isn't my original name," Lin rasped, clutching the water glass.

Banba frowned at him.

"It's Maomei," he said, closing his eyes again. "Only no one since Feilang called me that, and now my mom and sister are dead, so no one's left. Xianming's better anyways. I like it more."

"I remember he called you that." Banba swallowed. "He's gone."

"He's never gone," Lin mumbled.

"Know what ya mean," Banba said finally.

Lin squinted up at him. The light shrouded the man. "Your dad?"

Banba nodded. "And he wasn't even my biological father."

"Doesn't matter, does it? Isn't that class teaching you that?" Lin winced.

Banba snorted. "Guess so. Though, like I said, only there for the free snacks."

"We made our own fam'ly," mumbled Lin. "Didn't we? Back in Hakata…" Fuck, he couldn't believe he was saying this out loud.

"Take this," Banba said, handing him two red, round ibuprofen tablets. And then he muttered something that sounded like  _yeah, we did._

But Lin couldn't be sure, because he fell asleep.

* * *

Illumi glowered at Jiang Cheng the entirety of their next class, but the man didn't so much as glance in his direction. Banba was out that day, claiming that his roommate was sick.

" _Roommate,_ " Hisoka hissed, making air quotes with his fingers.

There hadn't been any further problems at the high school, at least not that Illumi heard about. But Illumi was still bitter. He didn't want Killua suffering any more than he wanted Alluka or Kalluto suffering. Or Milluki, but he was an adult. And he couldn't tell Killua what he'd done, because some kind of possessed rock kept plummeting into his stomach whenever he thought about it, and the rock shouted, "Maybe Killua will think you were just worried about yourself, since you're married to another man, instead of worried about him!"

"If you have something to say, you might as well say it," Hisoka said finally to Jiang Cheng as they left the building. "It's bad for your health if you keep it in."

Jiang Cheng scowled. "I haven't heard of any more trouble."

"Neither have we," Illumi cut in.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Only that you're at a parenting class and yet refusing to take responsibility for your son—or, excuse me, your nephew," said Hisoka.

"Excuse  _me?"_  Jiang Cheng halted, whirling around to glare at hem.

"You don't," Hisoka said. "You directed us to your brother and his husband—your brother's cool, by the way, I wonder how he'd be at wrestling—instead of answering the door yourself. Yeah, he told us you texted."

Illumi contemplated kicking Hisoka or waiting until they got home.

"Jin Ling likes—"

Illumi watched as Jiang Cheng's mouth moved. Cold air seeped into him, numbing his veins.  _He likes them more._

_He doesn't love me._

_No, no, Killua loves me now._

_You're not homophobic but you're learning, because you were raised to be._

_I called Alluka my brother until the past year._

"He loves you," said Illumi. "I'm sure of it."

"Huh?" Jiang Cheng blinked.

"He's not limited in love," Illumi said, voice trembling. "He can love you more because he loves his uncle, too. That's how it works."

"Says someone who never had to deal with favoritism—"

Hisoka howled with laughter, and then rage filled his voice. "Illumi's had to deal with not being the heir despite being the oldest. Who are you talking to about favoritism again?"

"That's what my therapist says," Illumi said. "I helped them abuse my siblings. I called Alluka my brother. I helped them lock her up. I ignored Kalluto when he was desperate for any attention. And Killua smiled at me the other night. Anyways. And Kalluto showed me an A he'd gotten on his spelling test."  _And I still can't comfort Alluka, not because I don't want to, but because I'm afraid_.

He still couldn't say that word aloud.

_Afraid._

_I'm afraid._

He was never allowed to hide from monsters. He had to become one.

Hisoka glanced at Illumi. He narrowed his eyes. "Get your shit together, Jiang Cheng." He grabbed Illumi, hauling him away.

_You interpret fear as fun, don't you, Hisoka?_

_I am still learning to even feel it._

_Help me._

But he buried it again.

He stepped outside his office the next day and stopped still. A man in white stood there, hair as long as Illumi's and expression as severe, but eyes golden, like Hisoka's.

_If we had a child, he might look like this._

"More problems?" Illumi asked smoothly, crossing the street without so much as a flinch.

"No," stated Lan WangJi. "I came because of what you said to Jiang Cheng."

"Oh?" Illumi tapped his chin. "I didn't think he was the type to vent his feelings."

"He's not. He just shut himself up and punched a wall instead." Lan WangJi folded his arms.

"And you're here because he's your brother-in-law?" Illumi started walking. He didn't know where. Somewhere down a hill. WangJi followed.

"Mnn."

"Hisoka told him he should take responsibility for his nephew," Illumi said.

WangJi nodded.

"You agree?"

"Is that all?"

"I told him a bit of my story," Illumi said finally. He wasn't repeating it. Not to someone he didn't know.

"You don't need to say it," WangJi said. "I know. I've read."

Great. "You're worried about Jiang Cheng."

WangJi nodded, though he didn't need to to confirm it.

"And your nephew."

Another nod. "Inferiority complexes are hard to climb away from. Maybe more so than superiority complexes."

If Illumi had the former, then Hisoka had the latter. "Are you here for advice?"

"Mnn."

"I don't know what to tell you," Illumi said honestly. And he didn't understand. If WangJi had read about him, why would he want advice from Illumi?

"I know what it's like to be unable to share your true feelings," stated WangJi. "I don't know why Jiang Cheng covers it up with rage and stating the opposite, though."

Illumi swallowed. "Maybe he's trying to earn the feelings he has." For his brother? For his nephew? The right to care about them?

_I want the right to care about my siblings._

_I do care about them. I do._

"It seems as if your Hisoka and WuXian both use humor to cover it up," WangJi said. "I think it is far easier to understand that, for me, than to do the opposite."

"It took me forever to understand Hisoka's twisted mind," Illumi said.

"Because it's your own, but masked differently?" WangJi suggested. "That's how it was for me."

"Maybe." It was more like he didn't want to admit he had feelings at all. He didn't want to be human. He wanted to be a Zoldyck, whatever that meant, whatever his parents wanted, strong, successful, and still he wanted to be loved, and it consumed him.

"He hates himself and thinks he has no right to care," Illumi said finally. He told Killua that once.  _You don't have the right to make friends_.

He told himself that.

Killua wasn't him, though.

He didn't know if there was anything to be done except waiting for the person to take the next step. Open a door and offer arms for a sister, who might turn them down, or might not.

_Ah._

_So it's me._

It didn't feel like a burden.

* * *

Wei WuXian paced his apartment. He had been over Jiang Cheng's, knocking until his brother finally let him inside, and then begging him to talk until Jiang Cheng finally poured himself a cup of tea and hurled it onto the floor before so much as having a sip. And then Jiang Cheng told him to get lost.

And Wei WuXian felt something break, and he found himself across the hall, in their apartment, empty of JingYi and SiZhui and Jin Ling, and WangJi too right now. He didn't like the silence. Too many ghosts echoed and echoed in his skull.

He saw himself accused of murdering Jin Ling's parents. He hadn't, but he'd been foolish enough to make enemies without thinking of the consequences when he turned to illegal work to help his friends pay off their debts—and to pay off the debt Jiang Cheng had inherited after his parents' savage murders, though Jiang Cheng hadn't known about it. And he'd driven too fast that night, and then Jin ZiXuan, Jin Ling's father, died, and no one believed it was an accident. Then they came for him, though, and his sister—she pushed him out of the way.

 _The reason you don't have parents, Jin Ling, is because of me_. Her blood had still coated his hands, warm and red, and he couldn't even say he'd screamed, because his throat had clenched too tightly, as if afraid to breathe, because breathing would prove he was still alive and she wasn't, and that wasn't how it should be.

Only a year ago had the truth came out. During the thirteen years between, he lived as a fugitive, until Lan WangJi found him one day. Jin Ling's other uncle, Jin GuangYao, had actually hired the men who came to kill Wei WuXian and killed his parents. Accidentally. And when he died, Lan XiChen realized too late that he'd missed his friend's pain, and perhaps, Jin GuangYao was more than a friend to him after all, but it was too late.

_I don't want it to be too late for you two, Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng._

"No one will talk to me," Wei WuXian greeted WangJi when he walked in the door. Wei WuXian sat on top of the kitchen counter, lower lip sticking out. "Jiang Cheng kicked me out and Jin Ling won't answer my texts."

"Jin Ling is an edgelord." WangJi put on a pot of tea.

Wei WuXian hopped off the counter. "He is, but he usually—was what I said yesterday too harsh?"

Silence, except the tea kettle bubbling as it heated the water. Wei WuXian waited.  _Are you really hesitating before telling me I did something wrong?_

"It depends," WangJi said.

"Oh?"

"I don't think what you said was too harsh," WangJi said finally. "But Jin Ling is—scared. He probably feels like he has to earn his place since his parents are dead and Jiang Cheng  _is_  too harsh on him." He exhaled. "But he can't be allowed to say that kind of thing without consequence."

"I only said that last night, about him being disrespectful to Jiang Cheng, because—" Wei WuXian stopped.

"You care," WangJi offered, taking out two teacups.

"I don't want him to turn out like me," Wei WuXian blurted out.

WangJi froze, teacups halfway to the counter.

Shit. He hadn't meant to say that so directly. "I mean—thinking it'll all be fine, you can handle people hating you, the ends justify the means, and—"

They never had. Or had they? It was too complicated and he didn't want to think about such things.

 _Jin Ling deserves more._  He was his nephew. His sister's son. Having your parents die early sucked. Wei WuXian knew that personally. He remembered them not being around, finding himself wandering the streets, stealing for food, running from dogs, the time a dog went for his throat and he was convinced he was going to die, and even though he knew he'd go to be with his parents if that happened, he didn't want to, and he hated himself for that afterwards.

" _Trash,"_  people would sneer when he tugged at their clothes, asking for money. Their eyes would roam up and down his filthy, torn rags, and he would run from their slaps.

And Jiang Cheng's mother after they took him in. He didn't want to cause problems, but he did, because her husband favored him because he'd loved Wei WuXian's mother, even if Wei WuXian's mother had loved his father.

_I just want to earn it._

_Neither Jiang Cheng nor I ever could._ He swallowed a bitter laugh. Earn the right to live, the right not to be a burden, the right to breathe air and eat.

He thought maybe if he paid off their debts. He thought maybe if he was proven innocent.

It didn't matter.

But it did to WangJi, but because WangJi didn't care about any of that. He saw him, and he valued him.

"Wei WuXian," WangJi said, setting the teacups down. They clinked against the counter.

He realized something warm was running down his face.  _Huh?_ His hands touched his cheeks. Clear liquid. Tears?

He didn't remember the last time he cried.

WangJi's arms wrapped around him. Wei WuXian leaned into his chest, sniffling.

"I really love Jiang Cheng, and by entering his house, I made him feel unloved by his parents—now his nephew—our sister—"

"You act like you alone were responsible for these things," WangJi said. "Wasn't the past year about realizing you weren't?"

Wei WuXian frowned. He could hear WangJi's heartbeats. Steady. Confident. A rhythm, WuXian's favorite song.

"I see," WangJi said. "Not you. Everyone else realized, but not you."

"That's—"

"It wasn't all because of you. Not the good, or the bad. Everyone else makes their own choices, too." WangJi inhaled. "You can't control it. That's okay. You were never supposed to."

That was what he used to say. He lost control of the car the night ZiXuan died. He lost control of his work in the underworld. He lost control.

_I never had it._

"The only thing you can control is yourself," WangJi said. "Like all the rules I grew up with." A smiled traced his lips.

"I seem to remember you trying to force them on me when we were together," Wei WuXian teased, pushing him back. He craned his neck, looking up into his husband's face.

"Yes, well, I hadn't learned that back then."


	6. Mirror Image

The good news was that Wei WuXian and Wangji had incredible sex after Wei WuXian cried. The bad news was that across the hallway erupted shouting so loud the walls shook, and Jin Ling burst into their apartment minutes later, as Wei WuXian was still scrambling into his clothes.

"What the—"

Jin Ling's eyes swept up and down his uncles. Purple hickeys marked WangJi's neck. Wei WuXian's shirt hung half-on.

Jin Ling screamed.

JingYi and SiZhui appeared behind him, following by Jiang Cheng.

"Oh, leave me alone!" shouted Jin Ling, stomping away.

"I don't think so!"

"Someone please tell me what the hell is going on," requested Wei WuXian.

"Everyone please stop yelling," requested WangJi, rubbing his forehead.

"He won't let me see my friends!" Jin Ling pointed his finger at Jiang Cheng. "He tells me to be nice to people and make friends but when I actually _do_ , he won't let me see them because they're not 'good enough' or some bullshit like that!"

"Don't swear," scolded Jiang Cheng. "That's not what I said, Jin Ling, I—"

"You want me to be alone and miserable like _you_!" Jin Ling bellowed, curling his fists.

"Jin Ling, stop!" pleaded SiZhui. And Jin Ling actually paused. His eyes were watering.

"Start at the beginning?" requested WangJi.

"Once upon a time Jin Ling's parents fell in love," began Wei WuXian, trying to lighten the mood. WangJi stepped on his toes. "Ow!"

"This 'friend' of yours is a gang leader, Jin Ling," informed Jiang Cheng. He folded his arms across his chest, leaning back against the door. "By your own admission. Why would I give you encouragement to—"

"He's working on leaving the gang!" Jin Ling pointed to Wei WuXian. "He's the one who told us to be friends after we met in that restaurant!"

 _Oh no_. Wei WuXian's fingers tingled, numb.

Jiang Cheng's face stiffened. "I see."

"What—" Wei WuXian's face bloomed scarlet. It was an odd feeling, his face burning, his fingers frozen. He glared at his nephew. "It's not like that, Jiang Cheng. Sing Soo-Ling seemed very responsible—"

"Ah, if you say so," Jiang Cheng said bitterly. "I see if _you_ say something, that's what matters, right? My opinion counts for shit."

"That's not true!" Wei WuXian protested, but his brother had already turned on his heel to stalk out. "WangJi, SiZhui—"

"On it," interrupted WangJi, fixing his nephew-in-law with a stare that would even freeze Jin Ling's tongue.

Wei WuXian marched across the hall.

"Is everything okay?" asked a voice. He turned to see Lan XiChen standing there, eyes wide.

"The usual drama," Wei WuXian admitted. He knocked on the door.

"Go away!"

_Like uncle, like nephew._

"Jiang Cheng," called Lan XiChen then. "It's me."

The door cracked open. Wei WuXian's jaw dropped. Jiang Cheng scowled when he saw Wei WuXian behind Lan XiChen, but stepped back to let them in. Jiang Cheng marched over to the couch, dropping down, his shoulders slumping.

"I really didn't mean to undermine your authority or anything," Wei WuXian burst out. "I thought Sing seemed like he could be a good friend for Jin Ling, maybe—but if you'd said not to, I would have backed you up." _I care about you and Jin Ling more than you could imagine._ And it ached that Jiang Cheng likely really couldn't imagine it.

"Huh?" Jiang Cheng blinked. He let out a harsh laugh. "As if."

"It's true," Wei WuXian insisted, heart thumping. Lan XiChen took a seat, his brow furrowed, eyes watching the two brothers as they bickered. "I would have. Jin Ling loves you, Jiang Cheng—he just thinks you take out your—"

"And here we go. The 'What Jiang Cheng Is Doing Wrong' spiel. It's always sounded the exact same, whether it's coming from you or from my father. 'Be more like _you_.'"

 _Fuck!_ "That's not it at all!" Wei WuXian shouted.

"It is, and it always has been!" Jiang Cheng yelled back. He got to his feet.

 _Why is this always happening_! "It is not!" Wei WuXian stomped his foot like they were children. But they weren't. Not anymore. He gritted his teeth. They had children next door, children who needed them to work this out, to— "You're taking out your own issues on our nephew, and I—" _I want to protect him._

_From you too, if necessary._

_It shouldn't be necessary! You love him!_

"I _never_ looked down on you!" Wei WuXian bellowed. "Never! I—I wanted to be like you—I—"

"Bullshit!"

"Do you hate him?" asked Lan XiChen, stepping between them.

"Huh?" Both brothers turned to gape at him.

"Do you hate him?" repeated Lan XiChen, looking at Jiang Cheng. "Or do you hate yourself for being unable to protect him? For being unable to protect your sister, and her husband? Your parents? You lost so much, and if he'd listened to you earlier, then—"

"And I was _wrong_ not to," Wei WuXian admitted, grasping onto hope. Jiang Cheng had tried to warn him. And he'd do anything to make Jiang Cheng— _I don't—_

Jiang Cheng gaped at him. His eyes glittered. "Now you admit it?" He shook his head. "I don't understand. I don't. Why—why are you always so quick to play the martyr, the savior, the—"

"Because," Wei WuXian said. " _You could never hate me as much as I hate myself for those things!"_

Jiang Cheng shook his head. "What?"

He stared at his brother. Breath came harsh. How to say this? "Talent doesn't scrape a kid off the goddamn streets!"

Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes.

"Ah yes," said Wei WuXian. "I'm just looking for pity again, isn't that what you think?" His voice shook.

_Maybe..._

_Maybe if I were more honest with you from the beginning... but how could I be, when the one fear I was unable to hide, dogs, was your greatest love?_

"You don't deserve to be hated," Jiang Cheng stated. "I mean, even when you acted like an idiot when we were younger, I never—I—"

"You act like you hate me," pointed out Wei WuXian. His heart thumped. "I always knew you didn't mean it, but—Jin Ling—I don't know if he knows it, Jiang Cheng."

"Stop making it about Jin Lin" said Jiang Cheng. "We both know it's not about him."

Wei WuXian bowed his head.

"That wasn't what I ever meant to—"

"What we mean isn't always what comes across," said Lan XiChen. Wei WuXian glanced at him and saw the ghosts hanging from his eyes. He must be thinking of Jin GuangYao. "We have to be responsible for how our actions affect—as much as possible." He clasped his hands together. "When you hurt someone, even if you didn't mean to, you do not get to say that you did not hurt them."

"I hurt you," Wei WuXian said softly.

Jiang Cheng looked up, meeting his eyes, and Wei WuXian knew it was true. "I'm sorry."

Jiang Cheng swore again. He dropped onto the couch, weary. "What am I supposed to do? Now? What am I supposed to do now? Jin Ling won't—he doesn't even like me, and I—"

_Don't like yourself either._

"Well," said Wei WuXian. "You have a brother who has lots of experience as a screw-up attempting to redeem himself after things you never meant to happen get carried away."

" _Why_ would you help me?" Jiang Cheng demanded. "Don't you love Jin Ling? Don't you want what's best for him? And I'm some kind of mean—"

"No, you're not," Wei WuXian cut in, grasping his brother's wrists, squeezing so tightly as if he could force him to see, to understand, to absorb this. "You are good. You have the capability to be—a better parent, the best parent, anything you want to be—"

_The only reason you can't is yourself._

_Because your parents made you believe you weren't enough, even though they loved you so much they sacrificed their lives so you could escape, and me with you._

_They loved me too. Your mother was never kind to me, but she loved me, and while it hurt me, I—can take what I got from it, now._ "You've always been able to."

"We'd both help you," said Lan XiChen. "WangJi, too. Jin Ling really does love you, Jiang Cheng. It's not too late to turn it around."

"Letting us help you doesn't mean you're weak," Wei WuXian added. Of course, this had always been his brother's greatest flaw. Thinking he was all alone. Being unable to feel the hands reaching for him.

_It's my worst fear, too._

Jiang Cheng let out a huff. "All right."

_No matter what, you're always my brother._

_And I want you._

* * *

"This is my nephew-in-law," Professor Lan stated as Ash staggered into class, a coffee cup in his hand. "He'll be helping out today."

Yut-Lung's eyes popped. Ash squinted at the boy with long hair and fluttery bangs standing at the front of the classroom. Ash rubbed his temples. Waking up this morning felt impossible.

He'd dreamed of Dino, of Foxx, and when he woke, he was afraid to pry himself out from under the covers. Under the covers, he was safe. He could smell the scent of Eiji's cheap shampoo on the pillow he hugged to his chest.

But he managed to drag himself here after Eiji dragged him out of bed, shoving him into the shower. And now he was here.

"I know him," hissed Yut-Lung. "That's one of the boys who was bothering Killua and Gon, Kurapika!"

"Really?" whispered Kurapika, clicking his pen on and off.

"Yep. Jin Ling." Yut-Lung frowned.

Ash watched as the boy, dressed in a yellow shirt and with a vermillion mark between his brows, helped Professor Lan hand out poems. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Yut-Lung.

"Does it count as playing hooky when you're excused?" Yut-Lung joked after class let out.

Jin Ling scowled. "My uncle and I had a fight, so I'm staying with Lan Xichen for the day. He thinks it'll be good for me." He huffed, crossing his arms. "I miss SiZhui and JingYi."

This boy was definitely a kid. Ash arched his eyebrows. "Not a fan of America?"

"Your food sucks."

Yut-Lung cackled. "Not wrong."

Eiji almost smiled.

"Did you manage to piss off all your uncles or just the one you live with?" asked Yut-Lung.

"Who knows?" Jin Ling shrugged.

"You probably do."

"I really don't. None of them make any sense as—human beings."

Ash snorted. He liked this kid, even if he seemed like a clone of Yut-Lung right down to the hair. No, not actually. Yut-Lung would not be caught dead outside with a ponytail that messy.

"What do you mean?" asked Yut-Lung.

"My uncle Jiang hates me. Nothing I do is good enough for him. Yet he let me move here, so he's confusing."

"He probably loves you and doesn't know how to show it," Eiji said softly. "Like Blanca for you two."

Ash started. Eiji's hand slipped into his.

"Blanca hates me now," Yut-Lung said. "I told him off."

"I doubt it. I've told him off a million times, and you being honest with him is probably preferable to your flattery," Ash retorted.

Jin Ling shrugged. "Is Blanca the assassin guy? One of them? I've heard about him from Jiang Cheng, but he won't give me any more details beyond that. Whoever teaches that class should give him extra lessons, like in private, but honestly he's probably beyond hope." He exhaled. "Whatever. I have to help Lan XiChen photocopy." He skipped into the classroom.

 _Skipped_. Ash stared after him. _You are a little boy._

"I heard the story about his family," came Kurapika's voice, quiet. "From Chrollo."

Ash glanced at him, arching his eyebrows.

"Do you want to get lunch?" Kurapika asked.

They all followed. Ash texted Lin, who replied that his fever had broken but he wasn't feeling up to coming out yet. Ash stabbed at his salad, chasing a runaway cherry tomato. "So what's the deal?"

"His parents were murdered when he was a baby," said Kurapika. "Actually, his grandparents too. They framed one brother—Wei WuXian, the one you met, Yut-Lung. Last year the truth all came out, and it was his other uncle, a man named Jin GuangYao, who was splitting parenting duties with Jiang Cheng, the uncle he currently lives with. From the sound of it, he was very close with Jin GuangYao. Jin GuangYao almost killed him in the end, before Lan XiChen shot him to save them all—he tried to save Jin GuangYao too, but he wasn't able to."

"Shit," breathed Ash.

Eiji bit into his burger. "That's horrible."

"Yeah," said Kurapika, blowing his breath out.

"I wonder if he thought that by coming here, he could escape it," mused Eiji.

"What do you mean?" Ash watched his boyfriend as Eiji dipped a fry in ketchup. _Did you think you could escape your depression when you came here from Japan?_

"It follows you," Eiji said. "Whatever issues you have—but if you want to, a new place can inspire you to make some decisions, some changes—it did for me. But you have to make that decision." He clutched his knees, staring at his half-eaten food.

"He's just a kid," Yut-Lung said quietly, clicking his chopsticks. The din of the cafeteria closed in. Ash rested his forehead on his palm.

"I also heard Jiang Cheng was very close to his sister, but not with his parents," Kurapika said.

Ash gaped at him. "Man, it's terrifying how much your boyfriend can dig up."

"His tablet is full of secrets." Kurapika smirked.

"I'm not sure that was a compliment."

"He wouldn't care and would take it as one." Kurapika exhaled. "He probably isn't over their deaths. Them, because he never got to prove himself to them, and the sister, because—well. Losing is hard, especially when it's one person who stood by you." His eyes glimmered scarlet again.

"Are you talking about yourself?" questioned Eiji.

"Maybe." Kurapika shrugged. "I just remember—I hated Chrollo for so long, blaming him for their deaths, and when I finally had no one to blame, I didn't know what to do. Because I never hated Chrollo as much as I hated myself, and the force of it all rebounding onto me—it sucked."

"He probably wants to love his brother, then," said Eiji, taking another bite. He swallowed. "It's just hard, because if he stops hating, then—he's looking for a new target and it's Jin Ling which isn't—it's wrong."

"Grief is a bitch," said Yut-Lung. "I know that. When my mother—after she—even after I killed my brothers and—their families—I remember. I was so empty. Sing told me I could still live, and I said I didn't know how, or why I would, and he said he'd help me." His eyes misted.

"I got one of Chrollo's friends arrested, and he died in prison," Kurapika said.

Yut-Lung nodded at him.

_We're all bad people here. Except Eiji._

_No, we're just people._

"I can talk to Chrollo," said Kurapika.

"I have an idea," Ash said.

"What?" Yut-Lung met his gaze. "You know you can't fix things."

"No," agreed Ash. "But we could talk to Jin Ling and try to help him. He seems like he needs it, as bitchy as he's being to Killua and Gon."

"You have experience dealing with a bitch," said Yut-Lung with a sigh, directly his chopsticks towards himself.

Ash snorted. "Guess so?"

"What did you and Blanca fight about?" Eiji inquired.

Yut-Lung scowled. "The thing I told Ash about. About feeling like someone's been watching me a few times."

"What?" asked Kurapika, brow furrowing.

"Yeah," said Yut-Lung. "But it's probably nothing, but he was mad because it might not be… And because he seems to think we signed him up for that class to help with Max and Chrollo's investigation."

"Into what, parenting?" asked Ash.

Yut-Lung arched his brows. "You really think that's all it is?"

A flush spread across Ash's cheeks. "Max would have—"

"Not if he didn't want you to get involved, because it's not relevant to previous investigations." Yut-Lung sipped his tea.

 _Max?_ A bruise ached on Ash's chest. _Max, why?_

"I don't know details," Kurapika said quickly. "I don't really ask. I just proofread."

"Is everyone in that class there for a reason?" questioned Ash.

"No," said Kurapika. "It was random, but I had to check that it wasn't infiltrated, so that's why I have background information on—" He stopped. "The class really isn't part of the deal. Chrollo's working with Max on another project—the parenting class is separate. But they agreed to help each other with these stories, so—"

"Does it have to do with why I'm being followed?" snapped Yut-Lung.

Kurapika frowned. "I have no idea. If Blanca's as vigilant as you make him sound, he's probably already looked into it, but either way, I can get more info from Chrollo tonight."

Ash nodded. He stared at his phone. Should he call Max?

He didn't know what to say.

* * *

"If you're upset about it, talk to him," Eiji suggested to Ash about Max. And Yut-Lung hunched his shoulders, because he could hear the words striking him, too.

Whatever. He couldn't worry about it right now. Yut-Lung grabbed his bag and stalked across campus. He spotted Jin Ling when he walked past Professor Lan's building. "Hey, brat."

"Who're you calling a brat?" Jin Ling snapped.

"You are a classic brat," Yut-Lung said. "Wear it with pride."

Jin Ling's brow crinkled. "I don't understand you."

 _No one hates you, Jin Ling_. But he had the feeling that if he were to say that, the kid would be pissed to find out people were talking about him behind his back, so he said nothing at all.

"See you," Yut-Lung said finally.

"When exactly?" hollered Jin Ling. "We're not friends!"

"We could be!"

"Doesn't your boyfriend hate me?"

"I just said—" Yut-Lung bit his tongue. "No. Sing doesn't." He didn't hate Jin Ling, either. "I know how you feel."

Jin Ling's eyes flashed. "As if you would!"

"That's a story for another time," Yut-Lung said. "Well, you know some of it."

Jin Ling blinked.

"Bye." Yut-Lung pushed past him. Too much for right now. But it was something. It was a start. Maybe he could call Sing and ask if they could have them over for dinner, Jin Ling and SiZhui and JingYi—good Chinese food, and their own language, the familiar sounds, and—

"My uncle wouldn't let me see Sing," Jin Ling called, voice wobbling. "Because he's in a gang."

Yut-Lung hesitated. He whirled around.

"If I don't make friends, he's angry. If I make them, he's angry because they're not whom he wants me to be—I'm not whom he wants me to be." Jin Ling's eyes welled up. "In so many ways. In every way."

Yut-Lung swallowed. "Sing's not dangerous. Not to you."

Jin Ling nodded. "I know. He even—after I called Killua and Gon—that name—he told me I was better than that, not that he hated me or—" He stopped himself. Footsteps echoed as a professor rushed by, tweed jacket with elbows missing hanging half off of him. Both of the boy snorted.

"I hurt Sing once," Yut-Lung said, undoing the patch over his past. "Pretty badly. He forgave me."

"SiZhui and JingYi are like that, too," Jin Ling admitted. "His family—killed my grandparents. SiZhui's, that is. JingYi probably gets along with me only because he does."

 _Holy shit._ "But so are you? Like that, I mean. Because you don't hate your uncles," Yut-Lung said. "Not either of them."

"Wei WuXian—saved me," Jin Ling said quietly.

Yut-Lung nodded.

"Does it get easier?" Jin Ling asked.

Yut-Lung shook his head, and the boy stared at his feet, and Yut-Lung put his hand on his shoulder, and they both fought tears.

That night, Yut-Lung texted Sing that he'd be home late. He tried to study, dropped off some medicine for Lin, and then made his way to the community center and waited outside for the class to let out.

A man who must be Jiang Cheng was the first one to scurry outside, tugging his purple jacket around him. He didn't even look at Yut-Lung. And then a man Yut-Lung recognized as Banba from Lin's description, and an okama with him. And a man with a cross tattoo on his forehead.

He sent Kurapika a snap. _I see your boyfriend._

 _You creep,_ Kurapika responded.

And then Max, a clown, and a man with hair as long and as black as Yut-Lung's. Max shut the door behind him, locking it.

"Max?" ventured Yut-Lung.

Max spun around, gaze landing on him. "Oh! Yut-Lung, what are you doing here?"

"Blanca—" Yut-Lung started, pulse hammering in his throat.

_I know you're working on something dangerous._

_I want to talk to him._

_I don't know if I want to apologize or repeat it again so that it gets embedded into his thick skull even if I have to hammer it in._

_Don't leave me, Blanca. Please don't give up on me—I can't give up on you—_

"He didn't come tonight," Max said. "Can't you call him?"

Yut-Lung nodded. "Thanks." He didn't feel like opening up under the concern in Max's eyes. He still held himself responsible for the things his brother did in ordering henchmen to attack Max's wife.

Yut-Lung walked a few paces away and took out his phone. He didn't make a call. He didn't want to seem desperate. _Shit_. He kicked the sidewalk.

"My god, the resemblance is uncanny," commented a voice behind him.

Yut-Lung spun around.

The clown winked at him. "You two look like you could be brothers."

The term squirmed inside his ears. He didn't like it. "My brothers are all dead," Yut-Lung responded. "And I'm quite sure I don't have any more."

The other man watched him, eyes haunting and too big for his face. "You must be one of the mentees he mentioned."

"Excuse me?" Yut-Lung put his hands on his hips.

"Blanca," said the man.

"Illumi, are you really that dense? He's Yut-Lung Lee," interrupted the clown. "I'm sure you know who I am, seeing how famous wrestling—"

"I don't follow sports," Yut-Lung cut in. He did not like this attention-seeking stuck-up clown.

"You _are_ the same," crooned the clown. "You're both stupid."

"Hisoka," snapped Illumi. "Do you need a ride? The other man said we should offer you one."

Yut-Lung had been taught not to accept any kindness without expecting a price. He narrowed his eyes. "I can call for a cab."

"Fine." Illumi turned, hair swinging.

"Illumi Zoldyck, wait for—"

"Zoldyck?" Yut-Lung interrupted. "Like, Killua?"

Illumi whirled around at the mention of his brother. His gaze latched onto Yut-Lung. "Yes."

"I met him once," said Yut-Lung. "I'm a friend of Kurapika's."

"Oh."

"I'll take that ride," Yut-Lung decided.

"You must be the one Blanca was hired to protect," Hisoka said as Yut-Lung climbed into the backseat. Illumi was driving, which relieved him. "A boss at your age. How—"

"I'm getting out of the mafia," snapped Yut-Lung.

"How idealistic."

"I'm going to do it."

"I believe you," Illumi stated quietly. "And isn't it scary?"

"No," Yut-Lung snapped.

 _Yes_.

"A little," he amended.

 _You gave up your family, too, didn't you? Zoldyck Insurance. I've heard of that scandal_. Abusive parents, a middle son who rebelled. Killua. And this was the oldest one, the one who was defending his parents at first, who turned against them in the end.

 _Blood was life for you, a curse for me_.

_And now we both have to learn to live again without our families._

"How fascinating," Hisoka mused, resting his chin on the back of his seat as he twisted around to look at Yut-Lung. "Tell me, this Blanca—is he a good wrestler?"

"Do you only think about yourself?" Yut-Lung snapped.

Illumi snorted.

"I wouldn't know. He didn't train me like that. He trained Ash." And Yut-Lung somehow knew he didn't need to say whom Ash was, because this clown was smart enough to have put the pieces together already.

"Let's see," Hisoka said. "The assassin fucks off to the Caribbean not just once, but twice, abandoning Ash, then you—or really both—and now he's back. For work, I presume."

"Probably." Yut-Lung leaned his head against the window, watching the night lights flash by.

"You are smart about everyone except yourself," Hisoka said as Illumi turned down the road to Yut-Lung's house. "He wouldn't be here, nor taking this stupid fucking class, if it weren't for you. He's a selfish prick, I mean, takes one to know one and I can figure that out from two conversations with him, but if he skipped tonight it's for you two, too. But he better get his shit together and not pull a Ging Freecss or else I'm gonna kick his ass like I kicked Ging's."

Yut-Lung had no idea whom Ging Freecss was.

"There. Good deed done so this one will fuck me tonight. Now get out of my car."

"It's hard," Illumi said. "After not caring, or learning to care in a different way." He met Yut-Lung's eyes.

_For you._

_For Blanca._

Yut-Lung nodded. "Thank you." He headed up the stairs to his house, unlocking it. A light was on upstairs.

"Sing is here," a servant told him. Yut-Lung hurried upstairs. A text from Blanca buzzed on his phone. _Max called & said you were looking for me. _

Yut-Lung swallowed. _I wanted to make sure you were ok,_ he texted. He pushed the door open.

"Yo," said Sing. "Where were you? I was starting to freak out—"

Yut-Lung's eyes spilled over.

"Oh my God! What happened?" Sing scrambled to his feet. "Do I need to punch—"

Yut-Lung shook his head, dropping down to the bed with his head in his hands.

_I'd forgive Blanca, as long as he kept trying._

_Even if he didn't, I wouldn't hate him._

_You showed me that._

"Kiss me?" he requested.

"Uh," said Sing. "Are you sure?" He was crouched in front of Yut-Lung, brow wrinkled, lips parted, worried.

He nodded. He couldn't speak.

Sing leaned in, kissing his lips, mouth staying closed. His lips brushed his cheeks next, kissing away the tears he used to make fun of Yut-Lung for.

"Hey," said Yut-Lung. "When you made fun of me for crying, was it because you didn't know how to handle them? Because I'd like to suggest this as a solution."

Sing snorted. "Definitely not!" His face bloomed red.

_Definitely yes._

_I know you. You're more capable than you know. Of this. Of us. Of leading, of leaving the gang, of being whomever you want to be, Sing Soo-Ling._

_And I want to help you._

He used to think he was born to rule the darkness of the mafia world, and he was going to burn it all down. Now, he was just content that he'd been born at all, that he could be by Sing's side, whatever they did, scared to make his own choices but learning, trying, moving together.

He leaned back, pulling Sing on top of him, locking his arms around Sing's shoulders. Sing's fingers dug through his hair, knotting it, and Yut-Lung couldn't even worry that much about it.

 _If I am named for the moon, you are the stars_.

Sing panted, pulling back, sweat dampening his hair. "I'm—"

Yut-Lung sat up. He reached for his shirt, pulling it over his head.

"Are you serious?" Sing asked.

Yut-Lung nodded. "If you want to." Was he still cursed? Was he—

"Oh thank God," said Sing, leaning in and pressing himself over Yut-Lung again. His lips captured his. "Except—this is my first—I'm a little—"

"I'll help you," Yut-Lung promised.

Sing nodded. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. I have lube."

"I mean in—other ways, too." Sing swallowed.

 _My brothers._ Shame prickled in Yut-Lung's neck. He rubbed the back of it. And he met Sing's eyes again. "You won't." The knot in his stomach released.

_I'm choosing this. And not because I want to hurt myself. But because you forgave me, and I don't have to earn it—I want this._

_I want you to feel good, and I want to enjoy myself, with you._

_You care._

He arched his back, showing Sing how to move, taking the lead even though Sing was over him, panting. Sing held him, and he saw then that Sing was nervous too, scared too, but he trusted Yut-Lung. Not to hurt him.

Yut-Lung had slept with countless people, and he hated all of them, but he refused to let himself think of it as a big deal. He was just a body. But the way Sing ran his hands up his ribcage, kissed his neck, stoked his hair, grasped him, tasted his lips, he felt, fo the first time, like his body mattered, like he mattered.

_You don't realize how special you are, Sing._

_But if you let me, I'll show you._


	7. Enough

"Did you earn extra credit for us by dropping him off?" Hisoka asked.

Illumi ignored his husband's needling. "He looked lost."

"No, he looked like you," Hisoka said.

Illumi closed his mouth. Yut-Lung did resemble him, in more ways than physical. _You want to earn that Blanca's care, and you can't._

 _It hurts._ But he hoped. He wanted it to work out, needed this Blanca to care, even if his parents never would.

He hoped Hisoka was right. "Do you have any idea what that Blanca is working on?"

"Not entirely," Hisoka answered.

"But _some_ idea," Illumi pressed, pulling into their driveway. He climbed out of the car, looking at the city lights in the distance. "How are you so informed, by the way? I know it's not because Chrollo suddenly invited you back into his good books."

Hisoka snorted. "Chrollo just—well, he doesn't seem to mind the device I planted in his computer. Or his phone. I'm sure he's figured it out by now but yeah." He blew out his breath, unlocking the door. "If it put you or the brats at risk, I'd let you know, Illumi."

"Would you?" Illumi asked, arching his brows.

"It's fun watching you plan," Hisoka replied, heading to the kitchen and waiting for Illumi to brew coffee. Kalluto and Alluka sprawled across the floor, playing a game of chess. Or really, making up a story for the pieces, about kings and a queen who was really in love with the bishop.

"That's not how it's played," Illumi said.

"Imagination is a thing, Illumi," Hisoka corrected. "Tell me about the pawns."

"They're all gonna die," Kalluto said.

"Excellent."

"Yo," said Killua, walking into the kitchen. He yawned, rubbing his eyes. "Can I have some of that coffee?"

"No," Illumi said. "You need to sleep."

Killua rolled his eyes. "You're having it."

"I'm an adult." Illumi put his hands on his hips. He hadn't forgotten the days of using coffee to keep Killua awake, force him to keep studying, because his father lurked ready to blame any failure on Illumi, lashing him with words and accusations.

"We live on the tears of children and blood," Hisoka said. "Caffeine has no effect on the likes of us."

Killua wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, okay, clown." He dropped down across from Alluka and Kalluto. "I was just talking to Gon about—"

"Have you had any more problems with those boys?" Illumi asked, dumping half a sugar bowl into Hisoka's coffee. Alluka's eyes lit up.

"No effect," Hisoka explained again, but Illumi saw Hisoka sneaking her and Kalluto toffees. Whatever. Illumi had to pick his battles with his man-child husband.

"No," said Killua. "Actually, Jin Ling wasn't at school today, and SiZhui told me he lost his parents and his uncle's really hard on him and makes derogatory comments about his brother who is also gay so Jin Ling probably is trying to impress him. It sounds really sad, actually, but he was still a bitch about it, so yeah."

Illumi caught Hisoka's gaze. Those golden eyes narrowed. _Why is this a theme in my life right now?_

He wanted to turn into a pill bug and curl up right there, hide from Killua's words, from Yut-Lung's, from that stupid parenting class he begged Hisoka to take with him because he wanted to—what? Wanted actual credentials? Wanted to still prove himself to Killua?

"Illu-nii, are you okay?" Killua asked, looking up at him with those huge silver-blue eyes.

"Absolutely," Illumi answered, and Hisoka sighed.

_When will I get to rest?_

"Anyways," said Killua, grabbing Illumi's black coffee and taking a sip. "When he comes back I wanna tell him I don't hate him."

"Hey!" Illumi yelped, wrestling the coffee out of Killua's hands one finger at a time. "You don't?"

"No," said Killua. "Not yet, anyways." A smiled ghosted across his face.

"He reminds me of you," piped up Alluka.

Illumi frowned. "Who?"

"You." She pointed at him.

Illumi swallowed. His face flushed crimson.

"That's not bad," Alluka said. "He probably cares a lot, but doesn't know how to act like it."

"'S okay," said Killua. "Gon was my friend even when I didn't really know how to act like a friend, or how friends behaved. So I'll be his friend, if he wants, and if he never uses that word again. He's just lonely."

 _And he wants to know he matters,_ Illumi wanted to say. _Even if he isn't perfect. Even if he messes up._

_What if it isn't enough?_

He couldn't pry his jaw open, so he headed up the stairs.

Hisoka appeared minutes later, shutting their door. He leaned back against it. "Well?"

Illumi shrugged. "Do you want to have sex?"

"Not when you're back to cardboard Illumi."

"Excuse me?" Illumi scowled.

"That's better." Hisoka dropped down next to him, reaching for his heels as if he was contemplating kicking them off, and then changed his mind. "You do realize that they don't want perfection, right? They just want you. To keep trying. They like you because you're their brother even if you were an idiot for so many years, and you're still an idiot, just not to them."

Illumi scowled.

"Look," said Hisoka. "Just saying, I like seeing you struggle. And they need to see it and like it too."

"Excuse me? Not everyone is—"

"Because it makes you alive," said Hisoka. "If you just magically turned a switch, why would Killua even care to be friends with Jin Ling? Isn't that what the teacher even says? Let them see your mistakes, and how you handle them? I mean, I like my version better than teacher-speak, but it's true. You used to act like a robot with your parents, and now you're like, alive. And that's better."

Illumi swallowed.

"I mean, I was only convinced you weren't a doll when you pounced on me that one time," Hisoka said.

Illumi snorted. He reached out, pinning Hisoka to the bed, hands grasping his wrists. "Like this?"

Hisoka jabbed his leg up, flipping them over so Illumi was pinned. He smirked.

Illumi let go. His arms relaxed. Hisoka frowned, and then Illumi's arms flew up, pulling him down, chest against chest. His lips pressed into Hisoka's, teeth hitting each other's, biting his tongue, a salty tinge of blood to savor dripping into his mouth. His fingers pressed against the teardrop and star Hisoka always drew on his face.

He clenched his arms around Hisoka's shoulders. Hisoka moaned, too loud really, but that was how he was, and in moments like this, when Hisoka was shaking and covered in sweat and panting, he knew. _I'm enough for you, the most unsatisfied person alive._

His heart pounded. _Alive. Alive._

_I'm alive with you._

* * *

"Wow," said Lin, sounding so much better than he'd sounded a few days ago. "Sounds like you guys have been having quite the time."

Ash sighed. Yut-Lung hadn't managed to get in touch with Blanca—or really, he was lying and hadn't been able to bring himself to tell Blanca what he needed to say. And Ash hadn't been able to bring himself to confront Max.

And he didn't even know what he would say without sounding like an ungrateful ass.

" _He left you out to protect you," said Eiji._

_But… I want to protect him._

He didn't know how to trust that Max could take care of himself, even though Max was an army vet who'd more than proven himself. Ash hunched his shoulders.

"In better news," Kurapika said, sipping his cup of lemon tea. The zesty scent tingled Ash's nose. "Killua and Gon told me they're friends with the brats now. Jin Ling and the rest."

"Jin Ling told me," Yut-Lung said. "I'm having the three of them over for dinner. I showed up in person and used my last name, so Jiang Cheng couldn't refuse. He's supposed to be in class tonight, anyways. Sing'll be with me."

It clicked for Ash. "That's why you won't tell Blanca."

"Huh?" Yut-Lung gaped. Steam from his jasmine tea wafted up, its scent soothing.

"You're afraid he'll say what he said to me about Eiji. That you don't deserve friends or trying to help anyone."

"Excuse—"

Lin snorted.

"I mean, it's true," said Ash. "But it's also not true. If only the completely perfect were able to help people, we'd all be stumbling around bleeding out on our own."

"How poetic." Yut-Lung sniffed.

Eiji looked at Ash, his eyes warm. Like he was proud of him. Ash swallowed, ducking his head and bouncing his leg.

"Hm," muttered Lin.

"I'm sorry, did he really tell you you didn't deserve friends?" demanded Kurapika. His eyes flashed scarlet.

Ash nodded. "And I almost let Eiji go because of that. But he just wanted to—his wife had died, and he was worried—we were the same. His wife, and Eiji, they come from a nicer world than the one Yut-Lung, Sing, and I grew up in. You too, Lin."

Lin shrugged. "Yeah. That's why I clicked with Banba, I guess. 'Cause we're the same." His voice was sarcastic. His eyes narrowed. "Except that's not it at all. He was helping me before I knew he was the Nawaka Samurai."

"You sure you're not in love with him?" teased Yut-Lung.

Lin gulped his hot cocoa. "He likes women. Almost had a fiancee once, but she was hired to trick him by the old Nawaka Samurai, so that didn't work out. She's cool though."

"I like both," Ash said. "Well, just Eiji now. But I liked a girl once."

"Chrollo's bi too," Kurapika said. "You could ask."

Lin's face turned as red as his skirt. "What does it matter to you?"

"It doesn't really," said Yut-Lung, tossing his braid. "But we'd like you to be happy with or without someone."

* * *

"They're late," Sing observed.

"Yes, I can tell time," Yut-Lung retorted.

The doorbell rang.

"Holy crap, you live here?" shrieked JingYi's voice. "Hey!" He waved.

Jin Ling was scowling again. His eyes didn't even sweep the hall. Yut-Lung's heart sunk. "You have another fight with your uncle?"

Jin Ling shrugged.

"Over me?" joked Sing. "Big bad gangster?"

SiZhui winced.

"No," said Jin Ling. "I mean, yes. I didn't tell him where I was going for dinner, and then he got mad that I was leaving because I guess he had bought something, and I said I never told him anything ever so it was hardly surprising. And I told him he made me like this, because he didn't care about me, so I didn't care what he thought." He studied his shoes. "Whatever. I don't want to bother you guys."

 _Well, that's a lie._ Jin Ling if anything cared way too much about what his uncle thought. "It's fine," Yut-Lung said, leading them to the dinner table. A spicy smell mingled in the air.

"Is that wine?" squeaked JingYi, spotting a bottle on the table. His arm stretched for it.

"Yeah, we can have a glass." Yut-Lung wasn't going to give more than that but hey, he didn't care.

"We're underage," whispered SiZhui.

"I know. So are we."

Jin Ling elbowed SiZhui. "Have a sip." He grinned, taking the bottle from JingYi, who had filled his cup to the brim and was studying it like it was an elixir for eternal youth.

SiZhui shook his head. "Sorry…" He winced.

"No problem," Sing said.

 _Ah_. A light bulb exploded inside Yut-Lung's head. He clutched the table to keep from slapping himself. _So that's what's going on here!_

"What?" hissed Sing.

"I've had an epiphany."

"Oh no," said Sing.

"Tell me, Jin Ling," he said once they were all eating. Yut-Lung leaned forward on his elbow. "Do you think you can make your uncle happy by making yourself unhappy? By insulting yourself?"

"Huh?" Jin Ling froze, half-eaten peppers and meat in his mouth. He swallowed quickly when SiZhui elbowed him this time. "What d'you mean?"

"I mean—" _The fact that you clearly like SiZhui_? Yut-Lung stopped at the frown on Sing's face.

Jin Ling gulped some of the wine.

"Do you think Sing and I are gross or weak because we like each other?" Yut-Lung asked instead.

Sing buried his face in his hands.

"Oh thank God," said JingYi, clearly understanding. He flashed Yut-Lung a thumbs-up.

"Huh?" wondered SiZhui.

"No?" Jin Ling blinked. His face reddened. "Can we not discuss how I'm an awful person right now?"

"You're not an awful person," Yut-Lung said. "You're just—insulting yourself to help your uncle feel better, or you feel better, but what if he's doing the same thing?"

"I don't understand you at all. Stop talking in riddles!" Jin Ling gulped more wine. SiZhui's hand snaked out as if to shove it away. Jin Ling slapped his hand. SiZhui smiled.

"Why haven't you told your other uncle?" Yut-Lung pressed on. "If you did, I'm sure he'd encourage you. But you haven't because Jiang Cheng is like your dad, isn't he? You love him. And you don't want to hurt him." _And by protecting yourself, you're hurting him._

_And you're not even protecting yourself. You're drowning yourself._

"Say what you mean or shut up," Jin Ling said coldly, but this time his knuckles whitened around the wine glass, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

"You like guys, don't you?" Yut-Lung asked. He wasn't going to name SiZhui.

"Obviously," said JingYi. "Like, _I_ can tell."

"JingYi!" cried out SiZhui.

"What? You love Uncle Wei and WangJi together, so—"

"That's not what I meant; I meant—" SiZhui's face was red and shining, as if he'd drunk some of the wine.

Sing moaned.

"I don't want to let him down!" Jin Ling covered his face.

SiZhui put his hand on Jin Ling's shoulder. "It's wrong you even have to worry about that." His voice sounded so firm, so resounding, like a gong, that everyone straightened in their seats, and nodded.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," complained JingYi.

"JingYi!" shrieked SiZhui.

"If Yut-Lung won't do it, I will!" JingYi shoved his chair back, his empty wine glass toppling over. "You like Jin Ling. Jin Ling likes you. The end!" He flopped down in his chair, head lolling back. "That was easy."

Sing removed the wine bottle. Both SiZhui and Jin Ling were gaping at their plates, unable to face each other.

"Do you know how many times I've complained to XiChen about it?" demanded JingYi. " _I_ don't even know, but I know it's lots!"

 _Our professor?_ Yut-Lung rubbed his temples. Well, in his defense, this was more or less what Sing had done to him.

_You're jealous._

_Ash had Eiji, and you had no one!_

_But I can't hate you… your soul is bleeding, even now. You're like Ash in that way._

"Disappointing your guardian is—" Yut-Lung stopped. "He shouldn't be disappointed. And if he is, that's on him. You're a smart kid who's been through a lot. There's no shame in bleeding."

 _You can stop the bleeding, if you want to_.

 _I'll help you. You have lots of people who would help you. Your uncles, XiChen._ Honestly, Yut-Lung wondered about Jiang Cheng. His frustration with his brother seemed to have little to do with his marriage and everything to do with Wei WuXian and by that, Yut-Lung meant everything to do with Jiang Cheng's inferiority complex. And he could see it, because it was what he'd said about Eiji.

He never hated Eiji.

He hated himself, because he wasn't Eiji, and he wasn't Ash.

_I wanted to be you, Eiji._

"I do," whispered Jin Ling. He lifted his face, turning to SiZhui. "I mean, I do, but I—"

"I do too," SiZhui managed. "I didn't tell anyone because—I wasn't sure you—"

"Are you kidding?" exclaimed Jin Ling, and his eyes lit up, glittering like a child's on Christmas. Sing's face softened. "I always wanted to be like you, and—"

"I thought you—"

"I—"

JingYi covered his ears, and Yut-Lung glanced to Sing.

His boyfriend smiled.

* * *

"Shit," Ash said, looking at his phone.

"Wait?" asked Eiji. He, Ash, and Kurapika were curled up in the campus library, trying to cram more studying in before their Chinese Lit exam on Monday.

"I guess Jin Ling got into another fight with his uncle. Oh, and he and SiZhui are a thing," Ash reported, reading the text. "I'm going to kill the uncle if he says anything to him."

"I thought you thought he really did love him," pointed out Eiji.

"Maybe," said Kurapika. "Then again, I know parents who love their kids, or the idea of their kids, and still hurt them. Killua's parents are like that." His face twisted.

"I think Jiang Cheng does," Ash said. "But…" His heart pounded.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" asked Kurapika. "Since I gotta pick up Chrollo tonight from that class anyways."

 _I'd see Max then_.

"Yeah," Ash said.

Eiji frowned. "What are you going to do?"

"Tell him to get over himself," said Kurapika as Ash said, "Threaten him."

"Eiji, control him," Kurapika said.

"Hey!" Ash exclaimed. But he knew Eiji knew he didn't really want to threaten Jiang Cheng.

He wanted to ask him something. The question he was too afraid to ask his own biological father, who called him a whore despite the fact that he was the one who told an eight-year-old Ash to ask for money when his baseball coach was raping him. The question he was too afraid to ask Max, because for all they'd been through, he couldn't quite understand, couldn't quite believe what Max wanted him to believe, and Max knew it.

Because if he didn't know it, he wouldn't still be trying to protect Ash from himself, like he was now.

_I'd be a valuable source of information, but you don't value me like that. Just as—as—you like being my dad?_

_Why?_

They waited outside for the doors to open. Blanca was the first one out. He stalled, seeing Ash.

_You came back._

"There he is," Kurapika said, before Ash could open his mouth. Ash spun, seeing a man in a purple coat stalking out of the building, face as sour as Jin Ling's.

"Hey, you!" bellowed Ash. Blanca's chin dropped as Ash took off, racing after that guy.

"Huh?" Jiang Cheng spun around. "Do I know you?"

"No," said Kurapika. "But we know your nephew. Sort of. And your other nephews. Sort of."

"And we know what happened," said Eiji. "And that you fought with Jin Ling again tonight. And that you're too caught up in your own self-pity and feeling sad about your dead parents and not being as smart as your brother to realize that your self-focus is hurting your nephew!"

 _Eiji?_ Ash gaped at him.

_Oh._

_Was that what you want to say to—to—_

"Excuse me, but you are—" Jiang Cheng started.

"Why?" demanded Kurapika, crossing his arms. "Blanca over there's trying to protect his kids despite growing up in an assassin-making machine. No parents to speak of. Illumi's parents hated him forever. Hisoka never had them. I lost mine, too, you know? And I always wondered what was worse: never having them, or having them, and losing them." He shook his head, eyes red. "But it doesn't matter. Because either way you're hurting your nephew, and he needs you."

"You don't know me from a whole in the wall, I doubt you know Jin Ling so well, so why are you—"

_Because we know._

"Not someone else," aid Ash. "Not your brother, not your brother-in-law, not that professor. He needs _you_."

_You, Blanca. Yut-Lung needs you._

"You are capable," Ash said, his throat clogging. "By sheer virtue of the fact that he wants _you_ , and _you're_ his uncle. If you want to be. The whole reason he's getting in fights at school and being homophobic is because he thinks it'll make _you_ happy. And if that isn't what you want for him, then _fucking show him!"_

_Like Max._

_Like Max is showing me_. He could feel Max's gaze on him, but he didn't turn around.

The sound of clapping echoed. The clown. Illumi Zoldyck stared, eyes impenetrable as always.

"Your dad's behind you," said Jiang Cheng, never taking his gaze off Ash.

"It hurts to not be wanted," Ash said. "To never—be able to—no matter what you do—"

_Forget it. People like you don't change._

That was why Blanca said he'd chosen to train Ash. Because he saw no hope for him.

_Dad, why?_

_Dad, I loved you, I wanted you to shoot my coach, and instead I did. Dad, I wanted you to find me when I was huddling on the city streets, I wanted you to take me out of Club Cod, I wanted you to hug me like a prodigal son when I came home, and instead you called me a whore._

_No one showed me, not until Eiji, and it hurt._

A hand landed on Ash's shoulder. Max. Ash looked up at him, eyes streaming.

_It's not because I'm not enough that you won't tell me what you're working on._

_It's because you are like my dad. For real._

Ash saw Max igniting the pornography he'd been forced into years ago, telling him he didn't have to be controlled my it anymore. And Max knew it wasn't so simple, that that alone couldn't set Ash free. But he saw hope for Ash, flames instead of cinders.

Ash grasped Max, and Max held him. His chest ached, throbbing as if sandpaper rubbed all around his lungs, and when he lifted his face once the parking lot was finally empty of everyone else except Eiji, he realized his face was wet.

* * *

Lin managed to stagger home, exhaustion surging through him. He might be over his bout with the flu, but his body still felt bogged down with the aftereffects. Not to mention that Ash, Kurapika, and Yut-Lung's teasings rattled around inside his mind, cutting through the blankets he'd piled over his brain, tattering them so that he couldn't protect himself with them anymore. The wind blew in and with it, so did reality, and he hated it.

For all the time he called Banba _Banbaka_ , he was the stupid one.

_I don't want to be apart from him._

_I followed him here because he makes me feel safe._

_I wanted to travel the world with Feilang, and I get to with Banba._

And he was attractive. He'd always known that. And yet.

_Why does it matter to you?_

_We want you to be happy._

He wanted Banba to be happy. And as far as he knew, Banba liked women. Then again, he hadn't dated one since his fiancee revealed she'd been hired to teach him a lesson about sleeping around.

Lin exhaled, turning on a romantic comedy. He watched, holding a pillow to his stomach. If only life were so generous to him, or to Banba.

_We're killers._

_Shouldn't we grasp the happiness we can have? Do we have to live every day atoning?_

_What choice did we have?_

_A lot._

He could have left long ago, after Banba paid off his debt. He could have disappeared before then if he'd really wanted to. Instead he took money to kill people. He wondered if any of them had left behind a loved one in the world.

He thought of Kurapika and what he said about his family, and Yut-Lung and his mother, Ash and his brother and all the people he'd killed. About what they'd said about this Jin Ling, and the grief that seemed to be crushing his uncle and his relationship. And he was just a kid.

_Why did I stay?_

_Did killing make me happy?_

_No!_

To a child who grew up with nothing, to be superior to someone, even for a moment—no, more than a moment, for their forever— _was it what you wanted?_

He gulped, pressing his palms against the scars from torture that were on his chest. They'd taught him to withstand all kinds of attacks—electrocution, bloodletting, waterboarding, whips.

They never taught him to withstand this.

_Feilang—_

_I never wanted to kill with you._

_I just wanted to be with you. You were my friend. You were family._

"Lin-chan?" called Banba's voice. He grinned as he shut the door behind him. "There was a big ol' fight after class tonight. Your friend, that Ash, and the other blond one with red eyes—they came to tell off that Jiang Cheng—" He paused. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." _Me. I'm what's wrong._

_I'm a murderer._

_How do you go on?_

He looked up into Banba's face and saw those brown eyes rippling with concern.

_You knew, didn't you? You realized. You are a murderer, too._

_That's why you left Japan with Jiro and Misaki._

"I was thinking I might stop by the college tomorrow," said Lin, trying to crush away the tremor in his voice. "See about starting classes next semester."

Banba's eyes lit up. "That's great!"

"What if I said I was just doing it for a hitman job?" Lin wasn't. But he had to know. He had to ask.

"I—" Banba swallowed.

"You don't want me to be a hitman, do you?"

"But you are, or have been, and I—"

_Don't care._

_You stayed with me, anyways._

"Do you want me to stay, or are you just letting me out of some kind of atonement? Some kind of guilt?" Lin blurted out.

"Huh?" Banba's jaw fell open. He plopped down across from Lin on the couch. "Where's this comin' from, Lin? I'm not—"

"I have to know," Lin insisted. "Why are you so nice to me? Why do you let me stay here rent-free? Why—" He'd known ever since Banba saved him from Feilang that there was no ulterior motive. Regardless of how he felt, he wasn't nice to Lin hoping for sex.

"Because I like your company!" Banba shook his head. "I don't understand, Lin! We've been over this."

_Because you're lonely._

_Do you like me like that?_

Lin hung his head.

_If I say it now, will he think I'll be a hitman again if he says no?_

_If I never say it, will I be able to stay?_

"What's goin' on?"

"Nothing," Lin managed. He turned back to the comedy. "Let's just watch."

"I'm really confused," Banba said again. "Like, Lin-chan—"

Fuck, he'd never be able to concentrate. Lin turned away from the TV screen, scrutinizing Banba's face. "That Blanca seems like he's trying to start a new life," Lin said. "I don't want to be a hitman."

"Well, that's good."

"Why didn't you tell me you didn't want to do this anymore?" Lin demanded. "Or want me to do it?"

"I dunno." Banba scratched his head. "Didn't want you to think I was condemin' ya, I guess? Besides, I knew you'd figure it out on your own, eventually."

_You were afraid I wouldn't trust you?_

_But you trusted me to figure it out—why? What would make you trust me?_

_Would you trust me not to do like your ex-fiancee did to you?_

Because Ash and Yut-Lung hadn't planted any ideas in his mind. They'd excavated it.

_I've always loved you._

"Lin-chan?" Banba reached out, hand stopping before his fingers brushed his chin. "You're cryin.'"

 _Shit_. He wasn't really. Just tearing up.

 _You remind me of what it means to live._ Something he hadn't felt since he and Qaomei were giggling together as he braided her hair.

_I want to be with you. Not out of gratitude or atonement. Because—you're you._

Lin leaned forward. Banba's eyes widened.

"This is why I'm acting strangely," Lin said finally, and then he closed his eyes, anxiety sparking in his fingertips. He pressed his lips against Banba's. Just a quick kiss.

When he pulled back, Banba looked to be in shock. His face drained. He wasn't blinking.

"Sorry," Lin managed. Well, he had other places he could go—call Yut-Lung or— _you won't hate me, I have to believe that—you might need some space—_

"Why'd you do that?" Banba whispered, fingers on his lips.

Lin shrugged. "I wanted to. But never mind. I'm sorry. I—" He made to get up.

But Banba's hand caught his wrist. Lin looked down, but Banba was getting to his feet too, towering over Lin even though Lin was in heels. He cupped Lin's jaw.

_I don't understand—I—_

And then he lowered his lips to Lin's. Soft, warm, testing. Butterflies erupted in Lin's abdomen. The kiss deepened, Banba breaking Lin's lips open. His arms wrapped around Banba's neck. Banba's fingers tightened around Lin's scalp, mussing up his hair, and he didn't even mind. He smelled Banba's cologne, tasted ramen, felt his eyelashes on his cheeks, felt him delving deeper into Lin too, like there was no part of Lin he didn't want.

Banba broke away first, panting as he still clutched Lin's shoulders. "Shit, if that was it, why didn't you just start with that?"

"Banbaka," Lin managed. He watched him as he took a step back, away from Banba. He covered his mouth.

He'd never kissed someone because he had feelings for them before. Always for a job. "Are you—okay?" Lin managed.

Banba nodded. He closed his eyes. "We should probably—talk about this. Tomorrow."

 _Tomorrow_. Lin nodded, dropping onto the couch. He clutched his knees, trying to calm the butterflies inside him. They flapped their wings even harder. Dumbasses.

"Sleep well." Banba hesitated. "Lin?"

"What?" He looked up.

"I've been thinkin' about kissing you for awhile. Just wasn't sure it was somethin' you wanted. Or me." Banba shrugged. "G'night."

_So it's not just me?_

_You might—have feelings for me too?_

Lin grabbed his phone, firing off a text to Yut-Lung and Ash. _You'll never guess what just happened._


	8. Where Else to Go

Illumi staggered into the house, arms laden with bags of groceries. A far cry from having his servants take care of such menial tasks when he was still in his parents' tacit approval. Or at the very least, his parents weren't casting him out then, since he'd never really had their approval. They could use him, back then.

Rustling came from the bushes by the house. Illumi frowned. He took a step closer, but to inspect he'd have to set the groceries down, and they were already straining his muscles.

 _Probably just a squirrel,_ he told himself. Then again Killua and Gon had been kidnapped once before and he wasn't eager for a repeat of that experience.

 _Stop being paranoid._ He fumbled to unlock the door.

"Yay, you're home!" shrieked Alluka, rushing over. "Want help?"

Illumi blinked. Alluka didn't often offer to help him. Truthfully, he was terrified she was still afraid of him. He opened his mouth to refuse, and then kicked himself. "Okay."

Alluka beamed as she helped him put bread and milk and peanut butter away. She paused as she unpacked a bar of chocolate.

Illumi didn't hesitate. He unwrapped it and broke off a piece for her.

"Thank you," Alluka sang.

Illumi nodded. He didn't know what else to say. "School was good today?"

Alluka shrugged. "Not too bad."

"If it gets bad, tell me."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want it to be bad for you," Illumi aid. "I want you to enjoy school." Hell, he'd never gotten to go, being homeschooled for his entire life. _And you've been bullied enough at home, Alluka._

Alluka grinned. In her eyes, then, he saw. They were wet.

_You know._

_You know I'm scared._

_And you made the first move. You keep doing so._

_You're teaching me. But you aren't angry at me for it? Why not?_

Oh. He understood. _Do you love me? Why_?

"Hey Alluka," he said. "Do you want to go shopping this weekend? Me and you?" Max had recommended one-on-one time, and he was already planning on asking Kalluto to an art class.

"Yeah," said Alluka. "That'd be fun, Illu-nii."

Using Killua's name for him. Illumi's heart warmed. He smiled.

"Also," said Alluka. "I was supposed to distract you."

His smile vanished.

"Except I don't really feel like it anymore," said Alluka. "I think you'll understand."

Oh. So it wasn't all faked. Illumi nodded.

"Killua has a group of friends upstairs," Alluka informed him. "But I told him to tell you anyways, since I don't think you'd be mad, but he said not to, so." She shrugged.

This was a test. _Can you trust me or not_? Illumi blew out his breath. "I'll go check on them. But not yell at them."

Alluka nodded, relieved.

"Hisoka's home, right?"

"Yep." Alluka hopped up and down. " _He_ told me to distract you."

 _Ahhh_. Everything clicked into place. Illumi was going to choke his husband. He hurried up the stairs, raising his fist and knocking on Killua's door.

Voices shushed each other from the inside. Illumi folded his arms. Alluka peeped out from behind him. _Thanks for backing me up._ He ruffled her hair.

"Hello?" squeaked Killua's voice, cracking the door.

"Open the door," Illumi ordered. "All the way."

Killua's lips curled, and then he heaved a sigh, swinging it open.

A computer screen sat on the bed, Gon's face on it. "Hello, Illumi!"

And three boys sat around it, one in yellow and the other two in white. Kalluto slunk back against the wall.

Shock slammed into Illumi's abdomen. He knew immediately who they were. "Hello, Gon," Illumi replied, switching on the light and leaning against the door frame.

"Oops," said Hisoka's voice from behind him. "Guess you've been found out, Killua."

"What is going on?" Illumi asked. Alluka glanced up at him, and he recalled his promise. "I'm not mad. I just want to know."

 _Patience_ , Max would say. _Patience. Let them know you're hearing them, and that what they say matters, even if it doesn't change your mind or rule._

"We're very sorry for coming over so late," burst out one of the boys in white, the one with hair as long as Illumi's. He rose, clasping his hands together. "I'm Lan—SiZhui Lan, and this is JingYi Lan, and Ling Jin, and we're here to—"

Illumi felt his mouth dry. What was Killua doing, inviting—

"We came to apologize," interrupted Jin Ling, tugging at his yellow coat. "We—I needed to tell Killua and Gon in person, again, that I was really sorry." He met Illumi's eyes. "And it didn't have anything to do with them. What I said."

 _Wow_. He didn't understand how kids their age could be so mature. "That's big of you."

"I'm kind of along for the ride," said JingYi. "See, these two realized they love each other, which everyone else has known for, I don't know, months at least, and then we were at dinner with Lee Yut-Lung Lee and Sing Soo-Ling when they figured it out, and then Jin Ling realized he'd been hurting SiZhui by using those terms and he felt so bad that we had to—"

"Shut up!" squeaked Jin Ling.

Illumi shook his head. Hisoka guffawed. "Do you need a ride back home?"

The boys exchanged a glance. Killua winced.

"What?" asked Illumi.

"I had a fight with my uncle," said Jin Ling.

"Which one?" asked Illumi. Kalluto and Alluka exchanged a glance.

"The one who hid from you," said Jin Ling. "And I don't want to see him."

 _Oh no._ Killua had run away before and Illumi was not allowing this again. "What about your other uncles?"

"They'll talk to him."

"Why are you—" Illumi bit his lip. "What is the problem?"

"I don't know whether he likes me or hates me," Jin Ling said. "And I don't want to find out. And—if he cares about me, then he would act like it, right? It has nothing to do with being gay or not; he won't care. It's everything else." His lip trembled. SiZhui reached for his shoulder.

"You don't want him to hate you," Killua whispered.

Jin Ling wiped at his eyes. "Well, there's nothing I can do about it!"

Illumi could feel Hisoka's golden gaze digging into the back of his scalp. He swallowed.

"Your territory," Hisoka hissed.

 _If he does hate you, I'll personally dismember him._ Illumi stepped forward. "I'll call him, but you can stay here tonight, okay?"

_He doesn't hate you._

_He loves you._

_He just has no idea what love is._

Fortunately, Illumi knew Jiang Cheng's dilemma too well.

* * *

"Do you think they're having fun with the Lee kid and the gang one?" wondered Wei WuXian, popping a grape into his mouth.

"Mnn." WangJi rattled the newspaper.

Wei WuXian sighed. "XiChen seemed happy with how his classes are going. I haven't seen him smile like that since Jin GuangYao died."

"Me neither," said WangJi, finally setting down the newspaper. He closed his eyes.

"You want your brother to be happy," Wei WuXian said.

"Of course I do." WangJi's eyes flew open. "Don't you?"

He nodded. "Jiang Cheng doesn't exactly make it easy, though." He was trying. They all were. Lan XiChen had stepped in, trying to mentor Jin Ling by letting him help out with classes, and Jiang Cheng was trying to give the boy some more freedom, letting him go to dinner even with a gang leader and mafia boss.

But what he really needed to do he still seemed scared to do.

_Say it._

Then again, Wei WuXian was hardly one to talk about repressing the things that should be said. It'd taken him forever to realize WangJi even liked him, and it was only because Lan XiChen flat-out told him. And then he'd said it.

 _Lan Zhan! I truly wanted to sleep with you!_ World's greatest love confession, as far as Wei WuXian was concerned.

And then Jin GuangYao had died, and in the moment he shoved XiChen out of the way of the bullet and died instead, Wei WuXian and WangJi both recognized the black ice on XiChen's face, the ice that was only now visible because it cracked under the weight of possibilities forever gone.

_You loved him._

_And you couldn't say it, not even to yourself._

WangJi snorted. "No, he doesn't."

"I've never heard you make such an undignified sound before," crooned Wei WuXian, plopping down on the couch across from his husband. He leaned forward, grinning cheekily up at him.

 _I want to sleep with you every day,_ he'd told WangJi when he confessed. He'd wasted so much time already. Never again.

 _Jiang Cheng… just tell Jin Ling you love him no matter what. Like a son. And show him._ The things you couldn't atone for, like he could never atone for Jin ZiXuan's death—either they would drag you into a coffin with them, or you could choose to live.

WangJi smirked. His hands shot out, clamping around Wei WuXian's wrists. He pressed him back against the couch, lips pressing into his.

"Ah, Lan Zhan, take it easy," panted Wei WuXian. But really, he didn't want WangJi to ease up at all, and his husband knew it. _Harder_. WangJi's teeth bit at Wei WuXian's throat.

Wei WuXian rolled to the side, launching them off the couch. He landed atop WangJi, wincing as his elbow slammed into the ground. No matter. He pinned his husband down. "I win."

"Win what?" wheezed WangJi.

"You." Wei WuXian closed his eyes, eyelashes fluttering against WangJi's cheek. _The only thing I really want._

He'd lived on the streets, scavenging for food. He'd lived in what basically was a cemetery as a fugitive, alone. He could live without food, without company, without his name, without his family, but he did not want to live without WangJi knowing how much he loved him, and knowing how much WangJi loved him.

_That's something that can never be erased, regardless of the future._

Wei WuXian slipped to the side again, tugging WangJi over him and opening himself up, pulling WangJi's shirt over his head.

 _You always saw through me, anyways._ Through all the bullshit he tried to pull, all the laughs to cover up the sound of silence wailing inside his head, through the way everyone hated him and what bothered him was not that he was so hated, but that he was alone.

And WangJi was the only one he'd ever let in, leading him, shifting his hips and WuXian rolling his with him, talking nonsense to him because he knew WangJi liked it, felt him harden because he liked even WuXian's ridiculousness.

When both lay panting, sticky with sweat, Wei WuXian had to laugh.

"What?"

"At least the boys didn't come home during that?"

WangJi moaned. And just as the sound dissipated, the door flung open.

Wei WuXian screamed. WangJi grabbed his shirt, holding it up over them.

"Motherfu—" Jiang Cheng turned away. "Oh my God. Oh my God? Oh my God." He covered his face. "It was unlocked!"

"Still better than it being the kids," mumbled WuXian, prying himself to his feet and slipping his pants on. He shrugged into his shirt, WangJi doing likewise. "You can turn around now."

Jiang Cheng's face looked as if there was no skin, only blood. His fingers were still plastered over his eyes.

"You're in your thirties. How are you embarrassed?" asked Wei WuXian.

"You're my brother!" eked out Jiang Cheng.

"And you're a virgin."

"So?"

"So, nothing." Wei WuXian exhaled. "What's going on?"

"I came here to tell you something, but—" Jiang Cheng frowned. "I'm guessing the kids aren't back?"

Wei WuXian shook his head.

"How was class?" asked WangJi, who looked like he had been bathing in milk. He had no blood left in his face.

"Fine," said Jiang Cheng. "I just—how am I supposed to tell Jin Ling that I really do care and—"

"Just say it?" offered Wei WuXian, stumbling into the kitchen to pour some wine.

Jiang Cheng stomped his foot. "That's bullshit. It won't work. My father used to say he loved me, too. He never acted like it."

"Then... act like it?"

"I'm trying, but—" Jiang Cheng clutched his scalp. "I've already treated him like this for so long—it's escalated the past year and I—"

_You're desperate enough to ask me for help?_

_No. You're taking me seriously when I said I wanted to help._

_You don't hate me._ Wei WuXian's heart lifted. "Tell him about your parents," said Wei WuXian. "You're not dishonoring their memory nor mine if you just state how it was and how it made you feel." He pushed a glass of wine towards his brother. WangJi turned down his, so Wei WuXian decided to drink it. "They did the best they could."

"No," said WangJi. "They didn't. Not for him."

Jiang Cheng gaped at WangJi.

_You just wanted to be enough for them._

_It's not your fault. It's not—_

"A group of kids came to yell at me tonight," Jiang Cheng whispered. "It's like they think I'm some kind of—" He curled his fist. He met Wei WuXian's eyes. "It's not your fault, either."

Wei WuXian choked on the wine. It spurted up his nose, stinging.

"It's not," Jiang Cheng repeated, voice wavering. "It's really not. It's—it's—"

_Theirs._

"You can be angry," said WangJi. "And sad, at the same time, for them, too. I know that's how XiChen feels about Jin GuangYao." And then he looked away, because feelings were not things he was comfortable discussing.

"That's what I wanted to tell you," eked out Jiang Cheng. "It's not your fault, WuXian—you don't have to atone for how they treated me."

Wei WuXian watched the crimson liquid swirling in his glass. For the first time perhaps in his life, he had no words to offer. He met Jiang Cheng's eyes. "I think you're a better dad to Jin Ling," he said, heart thumping. "By realizing this. And I think they're proud of you for being a better parent than they were. Or going to be, anyways."

_I look up to you._

Jiang Cheng almost smiled.

Wei WuXian's phone rang. He ignored it. _Should we hug?_

_No._

_Yes?_

_Not yet._

_But—_

"It's Illumi Zoldyck," reported WangJi, holding up the phone and severing the moment.

* * *

"Jin Ling texted that his uncle gave them permission to spend the night with Killua," Sing reported, holding up his phone.

"Good." Yut-Lung wondered. Was Jiang Cheng some kind of monster? Or was he a broken person whose shards kept slicing other people? And was there a difference? Either way, he felt pleased. _I did something good for that kid, right?_

"Are you gonna talk to Blanca?" prompted Sing.

Yut-Lung scowled. The driver glanced at them in the rearview mirror. Yut-Lung ignored him. "Eventually."

"You and Jin Ling are still the same," commented Sing.

"Huh?" Yut-Lung tucked his bangs behind his ears. "What are you—"

"Avoiding the conversations you need to have with people who matter to you more than—well, I'm not gonna say anyone since I'd like to think that's me, but most people."

Yut-Lung scowled. He slouched down in the seat. "Was it easy for you to talk to Lao after he was so obsessed with protecting you he would up almost killing one of your best friends?"

"No," Sing admitted. "But I'd help you."

Yut-Lung sighed. He watched as trees increased, showing they were approaching his home. "I don't know what to say." Because what he wanted from Blanca had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Blanca's own decisions. Which, for all his skill with manipulation, he couldn't control.

_I wish I could._

_If I let go, will he figure it out?_

_I don't know. I really don't know._

_It hurts. Loving people hurts_. He doubled over. _And I'm scared._

Sing rubbed his thumb over the back of Yut-Lung's hand. He leaned against his boyfriend's shoulder.

The driver dropped them off at their home. Yut-Lung emerged, heading for the door.

Pounding footsteps.

Someone in black. Running towards him.

"Hey!" shrieked Sing. A hand closed around the back of Yut-Lung's throat, hurling him to the ground. Sing stood over him, Dragon Fang whizzing out from his glove towards the intruder.

Whoever it was staggered to a half, looking not at them, but at the car. And then they turned to run.

"What the fuck?" Yut-Lung shoved himself to his feet. The asphalt scraped his palms raw. His security guards mobbed him, checking if he was okay—"Go after him, idiots!"

"Please, Not-Idiots?" Sing corrected him.

Yut-Lung gaped. "What the—why did they just run? They didn't even have a weapon—"

Sing shook his head, but his hand was shaking. He stood in front of Yut-Lung, arms wide as if to protect him.

"We have to get out of here," Yut-Lung croaked.

* * *

Ash woke in the middle of the night to his phone screaming at him. He jerked awake, sitting up. Eiji blinked, rubbing his eyes.

It was one in the fucking morning. Who would— "Yut-Lung?" Ash demanded, answering. _You better be dying._

"Let us in; we're downstairs!" barked Yut-Lung.

"What? Who's us? Why—what—"

"Let us up," snapped Sing's voice. "Someone tried to attack us."

 _Close enough to dying,_ Ash decided. "Fine." Ash hung up and scrambled to his feet, grasping his jacket.

"What on earth is going on?" Eiji mumbled.

Ash sprinted down to the lobby, letting Yut-Lung and Sing in. Yut-Lung kept dragging his hands through his hair, cursing. Eiji rushed out of the apartment when they got to their floor, grabbing them both in hugs. Yut-Lung's eyes widened in surprise.

"That doesn't make any sense," Eiji said when they told him and Ash what happened. "Why would he run away?"

Yut-Lung shook his head. "Maybe they didn't expect Sing to lash back with Dragon Fang?"

Sing rubbed his jaw. "Maybe, but they also weren't looking at us."

Yut-Lung blinked. He lunged for his phone. "My driver—"

"They weren't looking at him either," Sing interrupted. "The car."

"A car thief?" Eiji questioned.

"No," said Ash. "It's related to whomever's been following you."

Yut-Lung nodded. "I think so, too."

Ash sent a text to Blanca, but he doubted the man would be awake at this time. "I'll text Kurapika too, tell him we won't be in class tomorrow and ask him to take notes for us." And then he fired off another text to Max.

Max had hugged him for a while that night, and Ash knew that he understood what Ash was thinking, why he was screaming, who he thought Jiang Cheng was. _Not you. Not you._

He didn't need to prove himself by taking down this stalker by himself. Keeping Yut-Lung and Sing safe was the priority. And Eiji.

* * *

Kurapika had been up almost all night studying for his exam by the evil medieval British literature professor who would give them passages, expect them to identify the work and its author, and write about how the passage worked for the story as a whole. His phone buzzed around six in the morning, and he pried himself off the couch. A cup of chai Chrollo made him sat half-finished next to Indoor Fish's tank.

"What's wrong?" Chrollo asked when he saw the look on Kurapika's face.

Kurapika yelped. "Awake already?"

"Never slept," Chrollo reported, rubbing his eyes. "This story is a bitch."

"Ash said there's some kind of emergency?" Kurapika got to his feet. Anxiety tightened its chains around him. Chrollo immediately shut his laptop.

_Oh, please answer!_

"Ash said someone tried to attack Yut-Lung and Sing," Kurapika reported. "Probably related to—well, you know. Organized crime." He gulped.

What if something happened to them? He didn't want to lose more friends. Not when he was finally getting better at making them.

"Shit," breathed Chrollo.

 _Dude, do you need a bodyguard?_ Lin had texted. Kurapika bit his lip.

"Uh-oh," Chrollo mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. The tone was telltale.

Kurapika slowly turned. Three cups of tea, all empty, were stacked in front of Chrollo. "What do you know?"

"Nothing?" Chrollo widened his eyes.

Kurapika walked over to his boyfriend. "Is it related to the trafficking group you're working with?"

Chrollo winced.

_Fuck._

"Maybe? They do have a grudge to pick with Yut-Lung, after all. He's been closing down brothels and trying to protect the workers as opposed to the johns." Chrollo grimaced. "I don't know, Kurapika."

 _That is way too much for a kid to be dealing with._ Kurapika dropped down next to Chrollo.

"Max and Blanca asked me to look into it," said Chrollo. "Because they wanted to make sure Ash and Yut-Lung would be safe. But Max was already working on that parenting class human interest story, so I decided to compromise and work on both stories as a cover for him."

"I don't understand?"

"We examined everyone's documents to make sure they weren't risks for our other story," said Chrollo. "But it wasn't exactly random either. We left a few persuasions for Jiro to join the class in hopes he'd connect us to Zenji Banba, because we needed an excuse to talk to him. The organization we're looking at helped traffic his roommate. I still don't think Banba entirely realizes, or if he does he's pretending not to because he doesn't want to risk his new life here or Lin's."

Kurapika's heart started to pound. "And Jiang Cheng?"

"Random happenstance. Banba was never even supposed to actually be in the class. Blanca wasn't either, but shit happens. Illumi and Hisoka is random too, or maybe I really thought they could use some help and talked to their therapist." Chrollo wiggled his eyebrows.

Kurapika scowled. "Are you _sure_ he's random happenstance?"

"Yes? Charlie Dickenson—"

"No," said Kurapika. "I mean, _think_ , Chrollo. The man recently helped take down Jin GuangYao, who was raised in a brothel in China, right? Are you sure there isn't a connection there?"

"You're gonna make me believe in fate again if there is," Chrollo retorted.

Kurapika kicked his calf. "Either way, it's time to get in touch with Lin. He deserves to know."

"And Max," Chrollo agreed.

 _Yeah, I can meet,_ Lin texted. _What's going on?_

 _Your worst nightmare._ Kurapika did not want to have to ask him questions about something he would almost certainly rather forget.

"'Kay," reported Chrollo. "Max said he heard from Ash too and that he's going to go and talk to Jiang Cheng about whether or not there might be any connection—if he's run afoul of anyone. I don't think the guy's malicious. Blanca will go with Max."

"Jiang Cheng's not; he's just stupid," said Kurapika. "Should we meet at Ash and Eiji's place?"

"Sure," said Chrollo. "Guess I should meet these friends of yours." He smirked.

Eiji had made them all coffee when they arrived. Kurapika accepted a cup of the burning brew to be polite. Lin was already there, his eyes sparkling despite the severity of the conversation.

"So when did you see them—or feel them?" Chrollo wanted to know, grabbing his phone to write notes.

Yut-Lung and Sing detailed. The night after dinner at Chang Dai. The school from Sing, once. Last night.

"He wasn't looking at us," said Sing. "More like the car. Maybe he wanted—"

"And you had people over for dinner last night?" interrupted Chrollo. His eyes met Kurapika.

"Aw, shit," said Lin, grabbing Chrollo's phone as if to study it.

The color drained from Sing's face. Yut-Lung and Ash both froze. Eiji covered his face.

"Every single time you had this feeling, you were around those three boys," said Kurapika. "Except last night—they looked—"

"To see who was in the car," whispered Sing. "Fuck!"

 _Oh my God._ Kurapika looked at Chrollo, who'd whipped his phone out to call.

_Please don't get yourselves killed, idiots!_


	9. Four Yous

Illumi woke early. He had texted Wei WuXian last night, and they'd agreed to meet up for breakfast at Wei WuXian's place while the boys went to school to talk things over.

"I'm impressed by how mature that is," commented Hisoka. "And somewhat disappointed. I was expecting Jiang Cheng to show up with a whip in hand and order his nephew back. Would've been entertaining."

Illumi glared at Hisoka. He had not had enough coffee to deal with his shit yet.

"I'll get everyone to school on time," Killua assured his brother.

Illumi nodded. He headed out; they needed to meet before work.

"Wait for me!" hollered Hisoka.

"Why—"

"You think I'm missing the chance for potential drama?" Hisoka grinned, chomping on a stick of gum. At seven in the morning. Good Lord.

"And if there isn't any, you'll cause it," Illumi stated as he slid into the car his parents had bought him long ago. It was in his name, so he didn't have to give it back. Even if he thought constantly that he should trade it in, get something new, he liked this car. Was it so wrong to want to hold onto it on the basis of the fact that it drove well and had heated seats?

"Precisely." Hisoka snapped a bubble.

_Bubble gum. Classic._

"Kids need some help," said Hisoka. "If Jiang Cheng wants to be a Ging Freecss-Silva Zoldyck but way lesser hybrid, then—"

Illumi gaped at Hisoka and almost drove into a tree.

"Jesus!" Hisoka yelped.

"I think that parenting class is rubbing off on you," Illumi said, starting to smile.

Hisoka's mouth dropped as if he was offended. "Never. I just love the chaos those three bring wherever they go."

 _Probably both,_ Illumi knew. But at least Hisoka wasn't bored with him. Ever.

They parked outside the apartment building, comprised of neatly ordered bricks, not fancy but not run-down either. Safe, with a doorman to let them in. Wei WuXian had to buzz them up.

Illumi knocked on the door. Lan WangJi, Wei WuXian, and Jiang Cheng all were inside, WangJi prying what looked like red-hot chili pepper flakes out of Wei WuXian's hands before he added them to eggs, and Wei WuXian was hopping up and down, pleading with his husband. Jiang Cheng arched his brows, having let them in.

"Hey, prick," Hisoka greeted him. WangJi flinched as if the word splattered him with some kind of indecency paint, and Wei WuXian took the opportunity to grab the jar of chili and rush for the eggs.

"My brother will also be joining us," WangJi said wearily, rubbing his forehead as Wei WuXian dumped about half the container in. "Professor Lan XiChen—"

"Heard of him," Illumi cut in.

"How were they?" Jiang Cheng ventured. "Did they behave, or—"

"They did," said Illumi. "Very polite, especially SiZhui."

Jiang Cheng nodded. "I love my nephew. I—" His voice trembled.

"You don't know how to show it," Illumi said. "So you hurt him, thinking it was love."

Jiang Cheng glowered, leaning against the back of the couch.

"I know," Illumi said. "I did the same thing to my siblings. I've mentioned it."

Jiang Cheng cocked his head. "So you don't think I'm some kind of monstrous—"

"Too weak to be monst—" Hisoka started, before Illumi kicked him.

"You should love him how he needs to be loved," said Illumi, quoting his therapist. "How you needed to be loved. Your parents probably failed to show it appropriately. If anything, they regret it."

Jiang Cheng curled his fists. His shoulders shook.

"Mine don't," Illumi said. "I think that's a good thing. You've a better foundation than I do."

Hisoka gaped at his husband.

"What?" Illumi asked.

"Nothing. You just manage to amaze and surprise me yet again, and I want to fuck you when we get home, or in your work bathroom because I can't wait."

WangJi dropped the spatula. Jiang Cheng cringed. Wei WuXian howled with laughter.

A knock on the door.

"Lan XiChen!" exclaimed WangJi in relief. He rushed for his big brother, his savior.

Except Lan XiChen wasn't alone, and his face was ashen.

"Max?" exclaimed Illumi. "Blanca?" Had they invited—how foolish—but—

Wei WuXian's mouth hung open. "What's going on?"

"The kids are okay," Max said instantly. "But—"

 _Oh my God, it has to do with—_ Illumi clutched the counter. The eggs forgotten, they began to smoke. Wei WuXian yanked them off the burner. Lan XiChen grabbed the couch.

"What?" eked out Jiang Cheng.

"Chrollo Lucilfer and his boyfriend, Kurapika—I think you know him—are on their way to make sure they're all right. They've already contacted them and told them to lock their doors, and they're fine for now, but—" Max cleared his throat. "Chrollo and Blanca and I are working on another project, on human traffickers—"

"What does that have to do with—" started WangJi, his face rigid and terrifying.

"We thought Yut-Lung Lee was being targeted after shutting down a variety of brothels in Chinatown," said Blanca. "And protecting sex workers. But it doesn't look like he's the one they're targeting." He met Jiang Cheng's eyes. "Can you think of any reason they'd be going after one of your three—"

"What?" yelped Wei WuXian. "They can't—"

Jiang Cheng let out a cry. Lan XiChen grabbed him, holding him up.

"They're safe—" Max continued.

But panic had already burst inside Illumi. No. No, they weren't. "There was someone sneaking around last night," Illumi whispered. "After they got there—"

"What?" Hisoka glared at him.

"I thought it was a bat!" Maybe it was. He couldn't say for sure. "I just—heard rustling in the bushes, and—" He was already texting Killua.

 _We're fine,_ Killua texted. _Chrollo's here w Kurapika, Ash, Eiji, YL, and someone named Lin._

Illumi still couldn't relax.

"There might be a connection," Lan XiChen eked out.

Everyone turned to him.

* * *

 _How?_ Wei WuXian rubbed this temples. This was a nightmare. A total nightmare. Totally not what they were supposed to—

"Jin GuangYao grew up in a brothel and was giving the women money to help them," said Lan XiChen. "And then he killed some of them, but you—already know that."

"No, actually, I don't," replied Hisoka, rubbing the back of his neck.

Wei WuXian couldn't calm down. If Jin Ling—his sister's only child—SiZhui—JingYi—

Jiang Cheng looked as if he was about to shake all the muscles off his bones. He gripped his face.

"The point is, since he's no longer head of the family and is dead," said LanXiChen. "There goes a source of income for them. Even if he was giving it to the women, do you think the pimps didn't find out and use it? He wouldn't have thought so cleverly about it because he wouldn't have been able to. He wasn't interested in helping them. He was only interested in making himself feel better and shaming those who hurt his mother."

 _And in keeping himself from sullying her memory, and the more he did so, the more he actually disgraced her._ Wei WuXian moaned. "And Jin Ling's head of the family now, the Jin family, that is—"

They were no Lees; they were respected. But if Jin GuangYao had really— _shit._

"They probably just want to extort money, then," Blanca stated.

"Just?" Jiang Cheng let out a bitter laugh. " _Just?_ That's my nephew! He's a kid! A kid who shouldn't have to deal with all of this, because his parents are dead, because his other uncle was a scumbag because his grandfather was a lecherous predator—" He covered his face. "It's too much; it's too much for a fifteen-year-old, it's too much—"

_Just like it was too much for you, after your parents were killed._

Wei WuXian suddenly suspected Jin GuangYao might have been giving money because he had no choice. He wouldn't put it past Jin GuangYao to lie about his motivations to Lan XiChen, and he would never ask Lan XiChen for help.

 _They were extorting you because your father was involved, weren't they?_ he asked a ghost.

"Ash and Sing are with them now," Illumi reported, looking up from his phone.

"They can protect them," Blanca said. "We'll go, now." He turned.

"Wait, wait, hold up, what the hell's goin' on?" came a voice from the—cracked-open—door.

"Who's there?" barked Blanca, pulling out a gun.

A gun. A black gun that looked almost like a toy gun but was definitely, absolutely, no doubt about it, not a toy. Wei WuXian gaped.

"Banba Zenji?"

"Oh great, the whole class is here," complained Hisoka.

"Not Chrollo or Jiro," said Max.

"Chrollo doesn't count, and good for Jiro."

Wei WuXian's heart pounded. What if his dabbles in the underworld—how could they be so sure it was just Jin GuangYao—if it was then Jin Ling would probably not have his life at risk, but if it was him, then maybe—

WangJi's hand landed on his shoulder, rubbing circles. Wei WuXian wanted to cry. Shame already prickled inside of him, stifling and cutting.

"What's up?" asked Banba, gaping at them all.

"Why're you here?" demanded Jiang Cheng.

"I woke up and Lin wasn't here, so I called Enokida—a hacker friend of ours from Japan—and he said Lin had called him askin' for info on the trafficking group that had trafficked him—" Banba stopped. "And then Lin texted me to meet y'all here and he wouldn't tell me why."

The way Banba said it, it sounded like the "wouldn't tell me" was the worst part of the story for him. Until, that is, Max explained what was going on.

"The fuck?" Banba's eyes darkened. Wei WuXian suspected this was what the Nawaka Samurai looked like, determination glittered, face otherwise frozen like a corpse's. "Why didn't Lin—"

"In all fairness he just learned about it too," Max interrupted.

"Oh." Banba rubbed his head.

"Did something happen between the two of you?" Hisoka asked sweetly.

Good grief, this clown was thirstier than Lan WangJi after the one weekend he spent away from Wei WuXian. Wei WuXian snickered.

Banba ignored him. "I assume we're all heading over?"

"Yeah," said Max, gritting his teeth. "My wife's taking Michael out of school for the day. I'll ask her to contact Jiro and Misaki, if you want."

Banba nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

"That's a _yes, something happened,"_ whispered Hisoka.

Illumi shook his head. "Could you focus on the matter at hand—"

"Miscommunication and secrets of which this could be seen as a part?"

"Responsibly need-to-know information being kept—"

"Fine, we kissed," snapped Banba. "Happy?"

"Are you?" Hisoka questioned.

"We need to focus," Banba said, face blooming pink. Wei WuXian snickered in spite of himself. "Let's head over and make sure those kids are—"

"Chrollo and I will get the story out as soon as we can," Max said. "I'll contact _Newsweek_ ; it's almost done anyways and once it airs, Charlie was going to make an arrest—"

"Charlie?" squeaked Jiang Cheng. "So the cop who ordered me to take your class is on a first-name basis with you?"

Max winced.

"It's okay," Jiang Cheng muttered, wilting. "I guess it's been—for the best."

So his brother was admitting publically how he'd fucked up parenting. Wei WuXian wanted to put his hand on his shoulder, so that he wouldn't feel alone. He remembered how cold that was, and how no matter how many people turned on him, sneering and ready to have his ass thrown in jail, spitting on the very thought of him, whenever WangJi stood by his side, he felt like a person again.

But Lan XiChen beat him too it, squeezing Jiang Cheng's shoulder. Wei WuXian narrowed his eyes.

They'd be taking two cars: Illumi's and Max's. Wei WuXian couldn't resist texting SiZhui, JingYi, and Jin Ling. _Are you all okay?_

 _I have no idea what the fuck is going on,_ Jin Ling responded.

And then there were no further responses.

"They're probably busy," WangJi assured him.

Wei WuXian slid his gaze over. He wouldn't be able to relax until he knew they were safe, could shake them all, could—

_Please be okay._

* * *

"I don't understand," said Jin Ling. "What the hell could they want with me?"

Lin decided he liked this brat. "Money, probably."

Jin Ling scowled. "My uncle won't let me touch my inheritance until I turn eighteen."

"Well, they probably don't give a shit." Lin plucked at a loose thread on the couch. He felt his throat closing up at the thought that they might be being watched right now, by those same people who shoved him into a truck, told him to kill Feilang, gave Feilang hope and then took it away when he found out he'd have to kill his roommate, crushed his hope when he killed his roommate ahead of time before they got attached and they didn't care, when he got attached to Lin and tried to kill him anyways, when he survived against the odds and sold him to a pedophile, when Feilang was so broken at the end that Lin—that Lin—

_Could I have reached you?_

_I don't know. I don't know._

_I did care._

_I killed you, but you're still with me._

He had hope now, again. Banba—he kissed Lin—they could—

 _I'm not going to let you take this away from me. And I'm not going to let you subject these kids to any more hell than they've already been subjected to_.

Killua hugged his sister, his youngest brother Kalluto standing next to Milluki, the college-age brother. Jin Ling held Lan SiZhui. JingYi sat next to Sing and Yut-Ling, his face white. Ash and Eiji stood next to Chrollo and Kurapika, everyone trying to process information.

"Guess no school today?" JingYi offered, voice shaky.

Killua snorted.

"If it's my fault," Jin Ling said. "Then I can—I'm not gonna give them that money no matter what, but I can just tell them that—there's no reason to put everyone else at risk—"

"Hell no," Kurapika said instantly.

Jin Ling glared at him.

"It's not that simple, Jin Ling," Lin said.

Jin Ling's face swelled. "I'm not letting people I care about be at risk for—"

"They're at risk by virtue of the fact that they care about you!" Lin shouted, curling his fists. "And it doesn't matter what you say or do, so try to at least respect the fact that they care about you! That what happens to you will—affect them too!"

"I can't—" Jin Ling stopped. His face crumpled. SiZhui held him up. "It's not that—I—why did he die? Why did he leave me? Why did he do that? If I have his blood, am I—"

"No," said Yut-Lung, walking over to him. "Jin Ling… my brothers murdered my mother, I told you that. And they raped me and sold me as a prostitute too. And then I killed their families too—or had them killed, even if I didn't—but I'm not them." Tears slipped down his cheeks. "I'm not, I won't be, Sing won't let me be, I don't have to be, you don't either. You don't, Jin Ling."

"My family killed your other grandparents," SiZhui pointed out. "Jiang Cheng's parents. I'm not—"

"Of course you're not!" Jin Ling was offended SiZhui could even suggest he was tainted by blood. He wiped his nose on his sleeve. "I just—"

"Shit!" shouted Ash. "Get—"

A red light glowed next to Chrollo's head. Ash shoved him to the ground. Lin grabbed Milluki and Kalluto, tackling them. A crack and the wall exploded. White plaster dust filled the air. Lin gagged. The window splintered.

"No one's hit?" panted Ash.

"No," Eiji assured.

"They're here?" eked out Jin Ling.

Don't even suggest sending you outside because we sure as hell won't," ground out Lin, lying on his stomach. Sing wriggled over towards the drapes, slamming them shut and encasing them in darkness.

"Everyone's on their way over—we can just call the police—" whispered Killua. Alluka whimpered, biting down on her knuckles.

"If we're not all dead before—"

"They can't want to kill Jin Ling," reasoned Kurapika, voice muffled from pressing his head against the carpet. "It doesn't serve their purposes at all."

"They can want to kill Chrollo," Lin pointed out. "If he's writing—"

"Yeah, the laser point on my forehead kind of made that clear," hissed Chrollo. "Too bad for them, I'm good at dodging death."

"Don't flirt with it," snarled Kurapika. "Or I'll kill your ghost ass."

"We have to get out of here," wheezed Sing. "Somehow. Or else—"

"Or else they'll break in and take him," SiZhui said. "What's to stop—"

"If they do that, then—" Killua glanced at his siblings.

_They're too young. I can't let that happen. They'll—_

"Yeah," said Lin, panting as his mind raced ahead. And he couldn't help but remember how he helped Enokida escape that one time criminals were hunting down and exterminating hackers. "Is there a way we can get upstairs? If we draw the drapes and avoid the windows?"

"To be more trapped?" snapped Ash.

" _No_ ," retorted Lin. "To get generic clothing."

"I don't get it," said Yut-Lung.

"We have four people here all around the same age with very long black ponytails," said Lin. "And a bunch of us well equipped for this kind of task."

"Explain," requested Chrollo.

"Killua, lend us some similar clothing. Jin Ling, JingYi, SiZhui, Yut-Lung—all of you dress the same. I'll take SiZhui, Sing can take Yut-Lung, Kurapika can take Jin Ling, and Chrollo JingYi. We can all leave around the same time, and they won't know who is who, but they'll want not to kill him so they have to be cautious—and Ash and Eiji, you stay here until we've lured them away, and get Killua, Kalluto, Alluka, and Milluki out of here." Yes, they were being put at risk, the kids. But he couldn't think what else to do.

"Good idea," said Ash. "They'll expect Chrollo or you, _if_ they know who you are, to take Jin Ling. They might quickly figure out Yut-Lung's the one with Sing, though."

"So let's switch that," said Sing.

"No, they might not. Kurapika's the least experienced one, so—"

"I—" Chrollo began.

"I'm keeping Yut-Lung with me," Sing insisted.

That was what Lin had figured. Plus, of all of them, Sing was still a kid. He, Chrollo, and Kurapika were not.

"Good thing I pretty much wear a uniform," muttered Killua.

* * *

They made it upstairs, Yut-Lung's pulse hammering in his throat. He wiped his palms on his pants. Killua yanked out several pairs of ugly shorts and gray sweatshirts.

"Ew," said Yut-Lung.

"Shut up!" Killua scowled at him.

"Do you have a weapon?" Lin asked them all as Yut-Lung pulled the sweatshirt over his wrinkled dress shirt, the yellow one he wore to dinner last night. He undid his ponytail and tugged it higher on his head, tossing some strands down to hang around his chin.

"I still carry my gun everywhere," Ash admitted, pulling it out. Killua's eyes bugged out. Alluka gasped.

"Got Dragon Fang," said Sing. "And a gun."

"Needles," said Yut-Lung.

"No?" offered Kurapika. "I'm not a walking armory?"

"Fine." Lin bent over and yanked his skirt up, unstrapping two knives from the tops of his stockings.

"Oh my God," said Yut-Lung.

"What the hell?" eked Jin Ling.

"They're knife guns." Lin tossed one to Chrollo, and one to Kurapika. "Don't worry, I've got one strapped to the other leg, too. Habit." He and Ash exchanged a look.

"You're weird," JingYi said. Jin Ling folded his arms around himself, huddling in. SiZhui held him.

Yut-Lung gulped. He looked to Sing.

"Okay," said Lin. "Plan: Sing, you have your motorbike."

Sing nodded.

"Take Yut-Lung on that; head to the university. We'll meet on campus, in that coffee shop. They're not stupid enough to get away with—"

"This is America; they might try," Ash opined darkly.

Lin rolled his eyes. "I know how they work. They won't try that. At the same time you leave through the front entrance, Chrollo, you and JingYi leave through the back entrance on foot. Head through the woods until you make it to a more public area; hail a cab, take a bus, phone a friend, get to the university. Five minutes later I'll take SiZhui out through the back door as well and head down the street; Kurapika and Jin Ling will take Hisoka's car."

Kurapika jangled the keys. His eyes were glowing red. Yut-Lung wondered if he felt like he was trying to prevent his parents' death by preventing—someone's suffering.

"Ash and Eiji and Milluki, you—"

"Stay in my basement another ten," Milluki said. "If my brother comes back, go with him; if not—"

"We go," Ash finished. He cocked his weapon. His eyes darkened in a way Yut-Lung hadn't seen since the days he was chasing down Dino Golzine. He tapped the barrel of the gun against his chin.

 _I know you'll protect them,_ Yut-Lung thought. _You can't leave hurting kids behind._

 _Just don't get yourself killed this time, dumbass._ He hoped Ash had learned his fucking lesson about sacrificing himself for others. You matter too.

But he couldn't force it. It was up to Ash. And Eiji was there with him, brow crunched together in determination.

They couldn't wait long. Yut-Lung tensed, glancing at Sing.

"I'll keep you safe," Sing assured him.

"I'm more worried about you," Yut-Lung responded. _And the kids_ … and not dying in these grotesque shorts of Killua's.

He hated leaving first. He'd rather leave last. This way he wasn't able to ensure that anyone else would make it. What if they flooded the place, or—

"Go," Lin directed them.

Sing grabbed Yut-Lung, wrapping his arms around him. Yut-Lung kept his head low, hair falling around his eyes. Sure enough, two men rushed at them.

Sing leaped on his bike, Yut-Lung after him. He wrapped his arms around Sing's waist, trying to press his head over Sing's to block any kind of shot.

_I can't lose you._

Wind whipped at Yut-Lung's face. His hair stung his face as it slapped his cheeks and eyes. He coughed, trying to spit out a mouthful of hair.

More shouts. Chrollo and JingYi must be on their way. Yut-Lung wrapped his arms tighter, clinging to Sing as he wove in and out of rush-hour traffic. He swerve to dodge a semi-truck and Yut-Lung squeezed his eyes shut, unable to watch. He held on. _Please get us there safely._

His arms ached, but he wouldn't let go.

"They're following," Sing shouted.

 _So they don't know which one is Jin Ling_. Yut-Lung gritted his teeth. Well, that was good. He couldn't risk that brat getting hurt.

He could almost hear Blanca's lecture now: _should've called me, shouldn't be taking things into your own hands, irresponsible, blah blah blah_.

 _I should've called you earlier._ Not for this, though. Just because he missed him.

_You're trying._

_Thanks for trying._

But either way, even if Blanca continued to be his… pompous asshole self, even if he scolded Yut-Lung and Ash raw after he found out what happened, Yut-Lung couldn't hate him.

_It doesn't have to be earned. You sent Sing to me._

_Until you two, no one cared about me since my mother died._

Sing yanked the bike down a side street. The wind cut at Yut-Lung's face. His fingers felt numb. _Keep holding on_.

Sing slowed. He and Yut-Lung leaped off while the bike was still running. Footsteps pounded behind them as they hurried towards campus. _You're still here, bitches?_

"We—can't put them at risk," Yut-Lung panted. The other students—if someone came onto—with a weapon—

Sing yanked Yut-Ling down a side street. The putrid odor of garbage filled Yut-Lung's nostrils. He gagged. His foot splashed in a muddy puddle. The sky lurked, gray and gloomy.

"Yut-Lung!" he heard someone bellow.

A soft popping noise, like a silencer.

His hands clasped Sing's head, pushing him down.

A pinch next to his spine. And then a slicing kind of pain, and then an explosion of stinging, burning, and an ache unlike anything he'd felt before. In his side.

His legs buckled. The puddle flew at his face. His head cracked into it. The gross water flecked inside his mouth.

A hideous screaming noise surrounded him, stabbing his eardrums. His hips and legs felt warm, as if bathed in sunlight, but there was no sunlight.

The screams reached a pattern, going in and out. It took him a moment to realize what they were saying.

His name.

" _Yut-Lung, Yut-Lung, Yut-Lung!"_

"You idiot!"

"I'm here," a voice kept saying as someone took him by his shoulders, flipping him over. They put pressure on his side. And the voice kept talking, a face filling his vision.

Sing.

"I'm here. I'm here. I'm here."


	10. Fault

"What the fuck happened?" Kurapika wrapped his arm around Jin Ling's shoulders. The two of them had made it onto campus, and he could hear sirens screaming in the distance.

Jin Ling shook from head to toe, stammering. "SiZhui—I've got to—"

Chrollo shook his head, JingYi rushing over to Jin Ling. Students gaped at them, backpacks slung over their shoulders, coffee cups in their hands like it was just another ordinary day. Kurapika clasped his hands together.

"I have no idea," Chrollo said. "Ash texted me that they all got out of there, and met up with—Illumi and Hisoka and Max—" His phone went off. He snatched it. "What?"

"It's me," Lin's voice said.

Jin Ling launched himself at the phone. "Is SiZhui—"

"I'm fine!" came SiZhui's voice in the background. Jin Ling doubled over. Tears gushed down the face that had been dry seconds before. His shakes got worse. Kurapika hesitated, and then held the kid again.

_I know. I know. It's scary._

"Sing and Yut-Lung had—"

"Are they okay?" Kurapika demanded. Jin Ling's face turned ashen.

"Yut-Lung got shot. There's an ambulance at the avenue behind the science—"

"Where?" screamed Jin Ling. Kurapika flinched.

"Behind—"

"No, where did he get shot?" shouted JingYi, understanding.

"Back." Lin's voice came clipped. Kurapika looked up to meet Chrollo's eyes.

Fuck.

"My fault," Jin Ling whispered, rocking back and forth. "It's all—if you'd just let me hand myself over—it's my—" His words dissolved into a broken cry, cracking and hacking at the air. He founded his fist against his thigh. JingYi shrunk back against Chrollo.

"No, it's not!" bellowed Kurapika, grabbing Jin Ling by his shoulders. Jin Ling gasped, and Kurapika knew his eyes must be glowing scarlet right now. But it wasn't anger. It wasn't agony. It was—it was—he knew. "Don't blame yourself, Jin Ling. Everyone chose to do this because we all care about you—we care about those who care about you—we care about the story—no one is going to blame you, and you aren't a better person for blaming yourself—it won't extract a bullet, it won't fix  _anything_!" Shit, now he was crying. "You won't heal by hating yourself! Yut-Lung doesn't want that! And he'll tell you as much when he wakes up, or—"

_Please wake up._

_Please don't die._

"How would I know?" shrieked Jin Ling.

_Your parents died._

_Your uncle died_.

 _How_ would  _you know?_

"Start learning now," Kurapika croaked. "It's not too late."

Jin Ling wiped snot and tears off his face.

"Come on." Kurapika used his arm to pull the boy to his feet.

"Let's head over," Chrollo said. "It sounds like your uncle is—there. All your uncles, Jin Ling. And they're worried for you."

Jin Ling clutched his skull. "They're just gonna—they'll—"

They'd better not blame him or Kurapika was gonna break their balls. He pulled Jin Ling along, into Hisoka's car, driving near the avenue. An ambulance sped by, lights flashing, siren screaming. Jin Ling wheezed.

They jumped out of the car. Almost instantly, Kurapika saw a flash of purple running towards them.

"Don't you say anything!" bellowed Kurapika, jabbing his finger out. Chrollo scrambled to talk to Max.

And Kurapika saw Blanca sitting on the side, Sing splattered in blood, groaning.

"Sing!" shrieked Jin Ling, pushing past his uncle—now uncles, because Wei WuXian and Lan Wangji and Lan XiChen all raced over too—to get to Sing. "Sing, I'm so—"

"Not your fault," Sing rasped, eyes red. "He's—alive—"

"I got shot in a similar place once," Eiji's voice came. He crouched down next to Jin Ling. "I'm here, right?" Ash stood behind him, nodding.

Blanca stared into the void. Kurapika hesitated. He looked to Ash, whose brow pinched in fear anyways, and then he started to cry.

Make it, Yut-Lung.

I don't want to lose any more friends.

Kurapika felt arms around him, too, and looked down to see Killua. And Gon. "Gon?"

"I played hooky once Killua texted me," said Gon. He reached out to rub Jin Ling's shoulder, too, and Jin Ling collapsed against Gon, of all people, sobbing.

"Jin Ling!" SiZhui raced over, Lin and the person who must be Banba behind him.

"I'm sorry," Lin rasped. "If I'd just—it was my plan—"

But he knew. He knew it wasn't his fault. Kurapika nodded at him.

Blanca let out a moan.

"He pushed me out of the way," managed Sing. He turned to Blanca, voice trembling. "They were going to—they wanted him alive—they hesitated after they'd shot him—that's when Lin shot them—"

"Are they—" Kurapika didn't know how to ask that.

"Dead," Sing said.

Kurapika covered his face. His fingers felt cold against the hot tears.

"He can't die," Blanca said.

"Why? Because you'll blame yourself?" Kurapika rose. "Do you only care about what he represents to you? He's not a fix-all for you!"

"Damn right," Ash said, stepping next to Kurapika, glaring down at his mentor. "He's—he's—"

"Like a son," Blanca said, face ashen. "And we didn't get to—"

"He won't die," said Illumi's voice. Kurapika turned. "I talked to that med student friend of yours, Kurapika. Leorio. He's pulling some strings. The best surgeons will see him."

"Why won't he die?" demanded Blanca. "You can't know that."

"He has things to live for," said Illumi. "He'll try to pull through as long as his body lets him. He'll fight as much as he can."

"And what if it doesn't?"

"He'll turn into a vengeful ghost and haunt your ass," said Hisoka, draping an arm over Illumi's shoulders.

"No matter what pain you go through," said Illumi. "Some things are bearable so long as you know someone's waiting for you. He knows you need him."

"It's not that simple," Kurapika said. "There are things we can't control. He got shot. That's—he's at risk."

"Yes," said Illumi. "And if you have to let him go, then that's on you. If you turn back to drinking and pretending you never cared, that's on you. And right now he needs you to be strong for him, so get up off your ass and pray or send good vibes or whatever the hell you want to do and hope he makes it because a parent is wanting the best for your kid as well as what's best for you, and if you have to choose, you choose what's best for them. So do what he wants, what would make him happy, whether he makes it or not. It sucks. It's hard. I know it. Lean on whomever you have to lean on, but  _get moving."_

_You wanted what was best for you at the expense of Killua, Alluka, and Kalluto for so long._

Kurapika saw Killua's eyes misting over, and he looked to Chrollo, to Hisoka.

"Hisoka, you married a good one," was all Chrollo said.

* * *

Hospital waiting rooms were stuffed with oppressive silence bearing down on all their occupants, suffocating them. Magazine pages flapped and rattled, but no one was reading. A news reporter read off news to make everyone even more depressed on the small-screen TV in the upper righthand corner. Lights glowed musty and yellow.

And there were so many things unsaid.

Wei WuXian couldn't stand it anymore. He got to his feet. "Coffee? Tea? Juice?"

Everyone looked at each other and nodded.

"Do you have seven hands to carry it all back?" retorted Jiang Cheng.

"Actually, I was going to ask you and Jin Ling to help me," Wei WuXian said sweetly.

SiZhui, JingYi, WangJi, and Lan XiChen scrambled to their feet, too.  _Apparently it's a family trip_. Wei WuXian was not going to complain. They made it to the elevator waiting area, JingYi slapping the button, before Jiang Cheng tried.

"I'm glad you're okay."

"But my friend's  _not!"_  cried out Jin Ling, jerking his arm away from Jiang Cheng. "And I have to wait in this shitty-ass hospital to see if he's even going to—make it—or die like my parents! Like my other uncle, the nice one, who tried to kill me! And—it's all my fault! If I'd given myself up—if I'd—Kurapika says not to blame myself, but I didn't—my uncle's dead and his decisions—my grandfather's, too—they're still haunting me—why, why,  _why?_ " It came out a pitiable scream, broken in the last phoneme. Jin Ling broke down, sinking to the floor.

The elevator came. No one stepped onto it. SiZhui dropped next to him, holding Jin Ling, who sobbed into his shoulder.

"It's not your fault," said WangJi.

"You could not have known," said Lan XiChen. "There are things you cannot control. You can only control how you respond to them."

_I sacrificed myself so many times. For Jiang Cheng's life. For his ego. For, for, for—so many._

_It was all because I felt worthless. But loving others—loving Jiang Cheng, WangJi, and you, Jin Ling—it let me feel worth._

_I couldn't think myself poison when I loved._

But he kept silent this time. Because he was not going to sacrifice himself now. He turned to Jiang Cheng.

_This is yours._

_Love him._

Jiang Cheng knelt in front of Jin Ling. He bowed his head. "I... messed up."

Well, that was a start. Wei WuXian looked up at WangJi, who watched it all, his expression impassive, but his eyes soft.

"I should never have made you feel like you needed to prove yourself," Jiang Cheng continued. "If—if anyone knows what it's like to have to take control of a family after—when you're too young, I know, and I still—put too much pressure on you. Not to be me, but to be better than me, to be like Wei WuXian, instead of—you don't have to be. You don't have to be anyone other than yourself. Because I love you no matter what you are or what you do, even if you were a total disappointment—the only reason I would act like I didn't is because I'm selfish, I'm really selfish, and I'd take that on me and blame myself, and lash out at you for it—and it wasn't—it was never—" His voice choked up. He hid his face.

Jin Ling gaped at him. Lan XiChen smiled softly.

"I want to repair things with you," Jiang Cheng eked out. "I want to—I've talked to Illumi Zoldyck already—I have the name of a therapist, I'll go, and if you wanted to do family therapy, you could. I want to—I—" He curled his fists. "I won't be perfect, but god, do I want to be."

And there it was.

_He never needed you to be perfect._

_I never wanted you to be._

_Everyone who loves you, Jiang Cheng—we just wanted you._

"I'm gay," said Jin Ling. An offering, and a test.

Wei WuXian started. Jiang Cheng blinked.

"I'm dating SiZhui,"said Jin Ling. "I thought—I—"

"Good," said Jiang Cheng. "SiZhui has my approval."

Wei WuXian glanced up at WangJi. "Did you know about this?" he hissed. SiZhui's cheeks were pink.

"It was very obvious," replied WangJi.

His jaw fell open. "Tell me next time!"

"Not mine to tell," replied his husband, not flinching even when Wei WuXian stomped on his toes.

"I'm so glad you're safe," whispered Jiang Cheng. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

Jin Ling sniffled. He let his uncle hug him. Neither of them knew how to hug. Wei WuXian smirked.

They made it to the cafeteria and left, arms crammed with drinks and some crackers for snacks.

"Proud of you," Wei WuXian heard Lan XiChen murmur to Jiang Cheng. Those two brought up the rear as they headed back to the waiting room.

"What if it doesn't work?" Jiang Cheng whispered back. "I really—do want to try therapy with him, and—"

"It'll take time," said Lan XiChen. "But I think you can figure it out. You both want it to."

"Does he?" Jiang Cheng's voice sounded vulnerable. Hopeful.

"Yes," replied Lan XiChen. "Like your brother, you're rather oblivious when it comes to the feelings of others, but yes. The boy only wants you to love him, and your approval."

"Oh."

 _Hmm_. "Hey, WangJi." Wei WuXian peered up at his husband.

"Mnn?"

"Is this a thing too?" Wei WuXian tipped his head back.

"My brother and yours?"

"No, the wall and the orderly. Yes, XiChen and Jiang Cheng."

"Soon," WangJi opined, and a smile spread across his face.

"Ah." Wei WuXian nodded. "Well, I approve. Your brother's acceptable. Nothing but the best for Jiang Cheng, after all."

* * *

Ash regretted gulping that coffee the second the cup was empty. His stomach felt like someone dumped a match into it. Eiji held his hand. Max rubbed his shoulder.

JingYi was trying to sleep, but no one else really could. Ash had tried, but anxiety kept zinging through his stomach, popping and sparking. Blanca sat across from them with a blank look. And Ash couldn't help but remember what Blanca had told him when Eiji was shot.

_He doesn't exist for your happiness!_

He'd never thought of Eiji that way. The beauty was that Eiji chose him. And Sing—Sing had chosen to invest in Yut-Lung's life the same way. And Yut-Lung sure as hell had to know that Blanca didn't exist for his happiness, considering Blanca was constantly popping in and out of their lives, trying and floundering.

_But he still wanted you there._

_Why? Why do we choose these people?_ Ash himself would never have guessed Blanca would ever come back after he abandoned him. Or that he'd turn to Blanca after what he did to get Ash back in Dino's clutches.

But when Ash was fourteen, Blanca hugged him instead of barking at him to clean himself up and pretend it didn't happen like Dino used to after someone assaulted him. And Blanca then broke the guy's arm for Ash.

 _Because at that moment, it reminded me I was a person, and it helped me go on_. How ironic Blanca then taught him to erase his humanity, become a killing machine—and at the same time, how to be human, reading literature about people, connecting. And then there was Shorter, and Eiji, and Max, all showing him in different ways, connecting, loving him and him loving them.

Perfect or not, they were all worth it to Ash, even if there was no one reason. Worth struggling even through a ton of shit. Because he knew they were people too, and they helped show him he could be saved, and he hoped they would realize it themselves, if they hadn't.

The door opened. Ash's head jerked up. Sing leaped to his feet.

The doctor's face broke into a smile, and that was enough. Eiji dropped his head in relief. Max tightened his grip.

"He's going to be okay," the doctor said. "The surgery was a success."

"Can I see him?" blurted out Sing. "I'm his boyfriend." He glanced at Blanca. "And this is his dad. His pseudo-dad."

"If he's Sergei Varishkov, he is listed as next-of-kin," said the doctor. "So sure, you can see him in recovery. He's not really awake yet, though, I have to warn you."

"Next-of-kin?"

"Mr. Lee is still a minor, even if he's emancipated. He had to list an adult as next-of-kin."

He probably didn't think it would ever be used. Ash rubbed his eyes. "We'll wait here."

Everyone nodded. Lin and Banba, Wei WuXian, Lan WangJi, Jiang Cheng, Lan XiChen—how strange to have his professor here—Jin Ling, Lan SiZhui and Lan JingYi, Illumi and Hisoka, Kurapika and Chrollo, Killua and Gon, Alluka, Kalluto, even Milluki. Jiro and Misaki had stopped by, but they hadn't stayed, just left a bouquet of yellow roses. For friendship, according to Misaki, a cutie.

Ash leaned back against Eiji. He closed his eyes, and finally, he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Yut-Lung's side felt like the very concept of pain was stitched into his skin. His back felt like fire-breathing ants were spitting and roasting it. He flung his eyelids open. "Ow!"

"Oh my God," said Sing's voice. "Oh my God, you're awake! You're awake."

"Mmph." Yut-Lung wasn't sure if that was something to celebrate. He'd have a scar now. What if Sing—

But as his eyes started to focus, he saw Sing's, hazy and sharpening, His mouth moving, and he was saying the same thing he said when Yut-Lung lost consciousness in that filthy alleyway.

" _Yut-Lung, Yut-Lung, Yut-Lung."_

Yut-Lung felt his lips stretching into a smile anyways. "Thanks."

"For what?" Sing demanded.

"Not dying."

"I'm not the one who got shot!"

"Yeah, but they were trying—" Yut-Lung wrinkled his nose. "What about—"

"The others are all fine," Sing assured him, brushing his hair back from his face. It felt nice, Sing's fingers stroking his scalp. "Charlie arrested some of the traffickers, and Chrollo and Max's story will come out soon, so they'll—lose power. Hopefully. Lin offered to help them with their article, too."

"Oh." Yut-Lung sighed. Ow. "I'm glad. Jin Ling—"

"He's okay. He's actually very, very worried about you." Sing smiled. His fingers ran from his scalp down by Yut-Lung's cheekbone, lingering. "Lao even texted. He's worried."

Yut-Lung scoffed. "That I'll live. Your brother hates me."

"Nah, he doesn't want me to suffer." Sing smirked. "I almost—when I saw you go down—"

"I wanted you to be okay," Yut-Lung whispered.

"I didn't want—if you didn't make it, I'd—"

"I didn't want to die," Yut-Lung interrupted.  _Please don't think that, Sing_. He blinked. "I just—really hoped they wouldn't fire. And if they did, I—" He wasn't sure. It wasn't that he couldn't live without Sing, it wasn't about him at all. It was just that he would never let Sing get hurt if he could try to stop it.

Sing rested his forehead on Yut-Lung's, closing his eyes. His breaths came short, and warm.

"Yut-Lung," came another voice.

"You're here too?' Yut-Lung managed, turning his head and regretting it. His vision blurred and spun.

"Careful," warned Blanca, dragging a chair over so he could sit close to Yut-Lung. "I—"

"He was a fucking wreck," Sing said with a snort. "Crying when he saw you'd been shot—I yelled at him to call a fucking ambulance and he couldn't even move. Illumi did it. And then he snapped into action and helped me put pressure on your wound."

"Thanks for not letting me bleed out," Yut-Lung rasped.

Blanca shook his head. "Yut-Lung, I'm sorry for—not being more forthcoming with you. I want to protect you and I didn't trust you not to get involved—"

Okay, fair, given what had happened. Still, Yut-Lung scowled, because he could.

"I'm not good at communicating," Blanca said finally, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But I meant it—when I signed your contract to be your bodyguard, and after, my priority has always been your safety."

"You can't protect me from everything," Yut-Lung managed.

"I know," replied Blanca. "But know it's because I care about you, okay?" He smiled at Sing, his hand entwined with Yut-Lung's. "I am proud of you."

"Really?" Yut-Lung's eyes popped. His brothers had only ever told him how annoying and useless he was, a worthless waste of space and air.

Sing looked at him, light in his gaze.

_I saved you._

"You and Ash both," said Blanca.

Yut-Lung closed his eyes, remembering the term Ash used for Max. "Thanks, Dad."

* * *

"I texted Jiro who texted everyone back in Hakata," Banba reported as they staggered back to their apartment building, half-dead from exhaustion. Tangerine dusk dripped through the windows.

Lin rubbed his eyes. How had it not even been a day yet since he and Banba kissed?

"Were you serious about talking to Chrollo Lucilfer and Max Lobo about the story?" Banba inquired.

Lin turned to face him. He nodded. The words stuck to his throat, but he forced them out. "I want to tell them about Feilang."

_I want to see his name printed._

_I don't want it to be pure hatred. They made him._

_I couldn't go to New York with you, Feilang, but you'll still see your name here, spoken about in this place._

Banba nodded.

Lin dropped onto the couch, placing his hand over his eye. "I killed two of them."

Without thinking. He saw them shoot Yut-Lung, saw the mafia boss who was born with everything pushing the gang boss born with nothing out of the way, saw crimson and felt his own blood surging. And he fired.

It didn't bring Feilang back. It sure as hell didn't bring Qaomei back.

 _I miss them_.

Officer Dickenson had said there wouldn't be any charges. He shot them to save them, didn't he? Had he killed so much he no longer could differentiate?

Banba sank down next to him, arm wrapped around Lin's shoulders, hand clenched over Lin's upper arm.

"I'm glad they're safe," said Lin. "Even if I had to kill those two."

"I know." Banba cleared his throat. "You didn't do anything wrong then, Lin. Everything was wrong, but by that point—not you."

 _It was because the organization they worked for raised me that I could kill them_. Lin closed his eyes. "Sorry for running out on you. I—didn't want you to think I was on some kind of bloodthirst mission and I didn't have any idea things were going to escalate so fast."

Banba shrugged. "You showed some good quick thinkin', ya know."

Lin smirked. "Don't tell Enokida."

"Too late."

"I'll tell them I kissed you in revenge."

Banba blinked. "I already told 'em."

Lin's mouth fell open. "You what?"

The light from the window deepened to carnation and lavender. Banba gulped. "When I woke up an' you weren't here—I was scared, Lin, so I texted—called—I wanted to make sure they hadn't heard—and that I hadn't done somethin'—"

_Wrong._

Of course. Lin exhaled.

"Sorry," Banba said quickly. "I know you're not Sayuri; I just—"

"You don't have to be sorry," Lin said.

 _We're still just two broken people. Trying to find as much happiness together as we can_.

"I like you," Lin admitted. "It took me—awhile to see what it was. But I like you a lot, Zenji. I like you, and I don't want to hurt you."  _What hurts you hurts me_. "I know it's hard, but I—moved across the world to be with you, you showed me that I could be kind too, and I don't think I need to be a killer, not when I'm with you. I think I just want to be with you. Whatever, wherever you are. I could do it without you, I know that—I've got friends with Ash and Yut-Lung and the like, and back in Hakata too—but I  _want_  to be here with you." His face bloomed crimson. "Now I'm the idiot."

_What do I get from being with you?_

_You._

_I get to be with you._

Banba's lips hovered apart, speechless. He cleared his throat. "You—Lin, I—I never wanted to pressure you, I—"

"How long have you been thinking of me like this?" demanded Lin.

Banba's lips curved into a smile. "Thought you were pretty from the moment I met ya. Thought you were a girl then, too, though."

"Yeah, that I remember." Lin rolled his eyes.

"I wanted you to be happy," Banba said. "I didn't want you to feel alone. I didn't want you to feel like ya had to do anythin'. I wanted you to be—"

_Free._

He didn't want Lin to feel obligated. Lin almost laughed. "I don't do much out of obligation."

"You do more than ya think."

Okay, there was the time he ran away. And the time he sold himself in the first place. And the time—

Lin swallowed. "Are we dating?"

"Do you wanna?"

Lin nodded.

"Okay." Banba said, breathing out. "I'm glad."

 _You're relieved?_  "You were scared to ask that?" Lin mocked. Banba scowled.

And then Lin pushed himself so that he was straddling Banba. He lowered his lips to Banba's.

"You just want to kiss me," Banba teased.

"Yeah, maybe." Lin shut him up, digging his hands through Banba's unruly hair and digging his mouth into his. But it wasn't just that. He could trust Banba, and he wanted Banba to trust him. He hoped.

Banba kissed him like he had experience, knowing where to place his lips, when to nip, all of it.  _I can see why you were popular with the ladies._

 _Well, probably a good thing._ Since Lin's experience was… significantly less.

Banba's hands slid up Lin's thighs, past his stockings to the skin.

_You do trust me._

_You know I'm not here for any ulterior motivation._

Lin pulled back, searching Banba's eyes. "Want to know a secret?"

Banba's lips were swollen, his eyes half shut. "Mm?"

"I've never slept with someone before. Like all the way, anyways."

Banba's eyes popped. "What?"

"It wasn't exactly part of training!"

Banba snorted. His fingers traced Lin's throat, lingering over his beating pulse. "Want me to show you?"

"You better. I have high expectations. I watch too many romances."

Banba heaved himself to his feet, carrying Lin, who wrapped his legs around Banba's waist. Banba tilted him back onto the bed, gently. He crawled over Lin. The light faded to husky violet before shirts came off, and Banba paused, studying Lin's skin.

All his scars, from the torture they put him through. Every day.

"Sorry," Lin admitted with a grimace.

Banba brushed his lip against his scars. Lin tried to scowl away the lump in his throat. He tugged at Banba's pants, and Banba slipped his skirt off. Banba's hands worked , and then he rolled a condom on.

"Sorry if I'm out of practice," Banba panted.

"We can practice more," Lin managed. He sucked in his breath.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yeah. Hold on a minute." Lin shifted, and it felt better that way. "Okay."

 _We're having sex_. Lin had never been more vulnerable. His body responding, revealing with he felt, his eyes open and even when they were shut, his face scrunching and his mouth breathing. Their hands intertwined, palms slippery. Lin arched his back. He wrapped his arms around Banba's neck, pulling him down to cover his lips with his own.

Electricity shot through him, but it wasn't the kind that hurt. Lin moaned. And he heard Banba saying something over him, groaning it.

" _Maomei."_

His name, the one no one since Feilang had called him.

Banba lay on him, heavy, sweat sticking their skin together.

_You called me that name._

"Thanks, Zenji," he said, turning his head to kiss Banba's ear. And he closed his eyes, in no hurry to move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my wild chaotic crossover. I know it's not my best written story by a long shot, but I love and highly recommend all of the original stories this fanfic is based on to all of you!


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